Inter Sol Solis et Luna
by Wihstrum
Summary: The night of the 24th of June 1997; Lord Voldemort killed Harry Potter. Did he? A colliding of the fates of three different people grants Harry a second chance. As a Vampire. With the most unusual person as his Sire. (HPDM slash)
1. The Harsh Truth

**Inter Sol Solis et Luna**

**By ****Wihstrum**

**Chapter One: The Harsh Truth.**

A flash of lightning streaked haphazardly across the sunless sky, followed by a crackling thunder, rocking the previously pregnant and humid atmosphere. Close behind, the obscure and looming clouds opened up, relieving themselves of countless drops of rain, which in turn met the ground with a little splash.

In the middle of it all, surrounded by endless emerald green fields and trees, now all hungrily absorbing the long denied liquid, stood a stately manor house. Its towers reached for the sky regally; defying the otherwise so untamed landscape stretching around it. The mansion itself was ancient and luxurious; guarding its inhabitants from the raging elements outside; even though, at the moment, much worse things lurked about, waiting.

Vile and cruel things.

The mansion also harbored several heritors and other, non-human presences. And this particular late-summer evening, as thunder and lightning lorded the skies, an unusual visitor was also housed inside…

Soft sensations licked at the fringes of his consciousness, as he sought his way out of the darkness that held him. The very moment he started to feel aware of his body again, excruciating waves of pain he recognized leaped through him, and the merciful numbness that his unconsciousness had brought, vanished.

Barely aware that someone was screaming, Harry Potter's torso arched of the wall sharply, muscles contracting around burning bones. Sharp pants left his mouth as another convulsion shuddered through his limbs, wringing itself through his nerves. Vulnerable and weak as his body was, it couldn't bare the straining ache and Harry passed back into dreamless nothingness.

Upon emerging from this period of darkness Harry found himself scarcely more aware of his surroundings than the last time. For starters, he almost immediately discovered –to his horror- that he was bound. His wrists were tied behind his back, and in turn onto the wall that supported him. His next realization, though, was that whoever had captivated him, did not intend to hurt him, yet: he was seated against several pillows and his wrists were not held by ropes, but by something soft, yet strong, which would not hurt him if only he did not strain against them. Then he merged again with the soothing darkness, for his body had already given up again.

The next thing Harry experienced was the sudden shock and pain as his body's physical senses returned to his conscious awareness. He had passed the last hurdle of fighting to maintain his soul in his body, and a strangled cry burned in his throat, but his body was too weak to simply scream. Shudders whacked his frail figure and he was forced to sit the wave of pain and nausea out, so instead he tried concentrate on where he was. The simple act of opening his eyes proved to be impossible and while he frustrated himself over that, he became suddenly aware that there was something that would make him feel better, something that would soothe his mild neurosis. His body and his soul screamed out for it, craved it, yet Harry hadn't the slightest idea what it wanted. There was this ache rooted deep inside of him, it was spiritual, emotional and psychical all at once. And just how long had he been 'here'? He didn't have the slightest idea of the time now, nor of the amount of time had passed with him just being there.

He was just drifting away in a welcome slumber, when all his senses abruptly fixated on a presence entering the room. The action of the focusing senses made him completely disorientated, so overwhelming it was, and yet he could tell _exactly_ where the other was: he could perceive the scent of herbs and wilderness when someone crouched in front of him, he could hear the heartbeat picking up pace, he could taste a foreign sensation on his tongue, and his mouth watered, as if he smelled something delicious.

Then voice spoke softly, startling his unusually delicate sense of hearing: "Well, well, seems like you did your name honor again."

Harry could pick up the faint amusement tainting the voice, and somehow his whole body and mind screamed 'caution!' Instinctively, the conscious part in his head had linked the voice to something that Harry knew meant nothing good.

"He was afraid that it was too late, and that you had already slipped too far away from us. But you've always been a very persistent little Gryffindor, and honestly I'd be disappointed if my knowledge of human nature had let me down."

The voice had stopped talking and by the shift in the rhythmic pacing of the heart, Harry somehow knew that the other was hesitant and rather intimidated. Was he afraid? Afraid of Harry? He wasn't even able to open his eyes and yet the other seemed distinctly uncomfortable by being in such close proximity to him.

Before he could even start to panic, the presence –a wizard he somehow knew- had leaned closer, and the hammering in the other's chest betrayed the mild fear. He cringed when a wet cloth was suddenly pressed against his forehead, and the sensations that the other carried with him clouded his senses. It was a man, he suddenly knew and with that realization his whole mind wailed in confusion. He had he known that? If only he could open his eyes, but his body just wouldn't allow him.

"They should change your name to the boy-who-refuses-to-die… Well okay, so you did, but- eh," a pause, the other was thinking, "And you still are, technically."

The cloth was removed and he picked up a wave of faint agitation radiating from the other, "Why did you do it?" the cloth was flung angrily into a bowl with water, Harry could hear, "Why do you always have to be the hero?"

The presence rose itself swiftly, the footsteps withdrew to the right and a door was opened, "I don't understand you."

A door was closed none too gently, and Harry was once again alone. It felt like someone had broken into Harry's mind, pulled out all the drawers and doors, made a thorough mess of their contents, and had fled, leaving it in shambles. And finally, after what seemed like ages, he fell back into the blissful oblivion known as sleep.

Vague memories of pain and anger seeped into his mind; and blurry faces of people passed behind his mind's eye. Something had gone horribly wrong; he was missing something. Grasping his senses and directing them to all he could feel and hear Harry desperately tried to find what he'd lost. His body remained intact, all limbs and organs were still there, but something was so wrong that it made him cold with fear. It was something he'd always taken for granted, and now it was gone. But what?

"Don't mind if I say this, but you look horrible today, Potter."

He nearly jumped at hearing that voice, but over the days, or maybe even weeks, it had become familiar. Sometimes he had been awake, other times he had been too weak to simply recognize another presence. The person came closer, and suddenly his whole body screamed out. Panic settled in his system as he didn't understand what was happening. The hunger was all-consuming and something vile and infernal took hold of him.

"Dear Merlin, you're sweating like a pig."

_Don't come closer, don't come closer! _Harry screamed mentally.

"Why is it always me?" his caretaker said with a deep sigh, then he wrung the cloth, and leaned in to bet Harry's forehead.

It happened so fast that Harry barely released what he was doing. With a vicious hiss he opened his mouth and tried to bite the other person. The tips of his teeth scraped through delicate skin, shredding it like paper, but the other wizard was fortunately fast enough and leaped to his feet, tripping as he stumbled backwards in shock.

The silence was deafening, and Harry screamed at the wrongness at what he'd just done: he had tried to _bite_ him! Why would he want to bite another person? Where had this sudden irresistible urge came from? The heartbeat of the other man was almost vibrating through the atmosphere in shock, as he hurriedly made his way over to the door. Another wave of fear gripped Harry; he didn't want to be left alone!

With a wavering tone, the other called: "F-father? I think he's hungry!" He remained in the room, but held post at the door, fearful of what would happen if he risked approaching Harry.

And then blissful calm settled in Harry's system; his savior was coming nearer. He would take his pain and confusion away, keep him safe and protect him. The closer the individual came, the better he was able to subject his senses to his own will. His over-sensitive hearing became bearable, he could discern scent from scent and finally he seemed ready to open his eyes.

The good presence had entered the room, and Harry eagerly opened his eyes to look. The sudden flood of light was almost painful and burned his retina. Spots of obsidian swam across Harry's vision, but his heart leapt in delight as he felt his savior crouching close to him.

"There, there Liber. I am relieved that you made it after all."

The voice spirited Harry back from his euphoria and instead he felt like he'd jumped from the frying-pan into the fire. He would recognize that voice anywhere. The luminous spots stopped dancing long enough for Harry to confirm his hunch. Lucius Malfoy was within his personal space and looking him straight in the eye.

With an incredible gathering of willpower Harry yanked at his bonds as hard as he could, and screamed in dismay, "Stay back!" but his voice was hoarse and raspy, so the indented shout came out like a quelled whisper.

Lucius arched his head sideways, smirking smugly, as if he found the whole situation rather amusing, "Stronger than he looks, isn't he?" he questioned the second person in the room.

His 'caretaker', who'd been standing rather awkwardly at the door, stepped closer wearily, "He tried to bite me." Draco Malfoy reproached indignantly.

Rolling his eyes with a sigh he replied, "Yes, Draco, I am sorry. I should have realized that he'd be hungry after struggling to survive."

Harry pulled at the bonds restraining him, and as he did so his whole body cried out in pain. The friction tore the skin and blood seeped from his wrists.

"Calm down, Liber. I am not here to hurt you," Lucius soothed irritably. He moved closer to touch him.

"DON'T!" Harry pleaded, and even though his voice said that, his body told him otherwise; his whole being longed to be near Lucius. It was the most appalling and profane realization ever. He didn't care if tears were seeping from his eyes as he forced his body to do the impossible; he just wanted to run as far away as he could. A fist of pain thrust roughly through his abdomen and Harry shrieked in agony and sweat broke out across his body, running in thick streams down his face and neck. It felt like his chest had caved in, his breath coming out in harsh heaves.

Lucius reacted immediately, and drew closer to Harry, "Foolish boy," he murmured with a look in his eyes Harry had never seen before. With one hand he simply grabbed Harry's chin, pinching it between his thumb and index finger, effectively restraining Harry from struggling any longer; he was simply rendered numb in weakness and fear.

And then something happened that would haunt Harry's mind forever: Lucius' eyes shaded from glacial gray to stunning silver, and suddenly his canine teeth lengthened, past his bottom lip. They were long, sharp and glistering. He was going to kill him.

"N-no…" Harry pleaded through gritted teeth.

Gazing briefly at him with those unnatural silver eyes, Lucius cocked an eyebrow. Then he brought his other hand up to his own mouth, and in one quick move, he sliced his own wrist with his fangs. Blood poured graciously from the wound, which he was now moving to Harry's face.

A wave of nausea undulated in Harry's stomach, like he'd swallowed some grotesque alien. He desperately tried to break free from Lucius's hold on his chin. But he couldn't, his body was on the verge of breaking beyond help and deep inside, a foreign instinct rejoiced over the offer of blood.

"C'mon…" Lucius urged, pressing his wrist against Harry's lips.

The Gryffindor closed his eyes, and pressed his lips shut with all the willpower he could gather. He would not give in to this sacrilegious and sick game of Dark magic they were forcing on him.

Lucius seemed clearly agitated by now and he let out a rumbling growl, which made Harry flinch involuntary because he suddenly didn't want Lucius to be angry with him. The man in front of him shifted the position of his arm so that he could push his thumb between Harry's lips, effectively prying his mouth open. Before Harry could react, Lucius tilted his head backwards, and shoved his wrist quickly in his open mouth.

A muffled cry pierced the room, and then all coherent reason left him: the blood seeped into his mouth, unto his tongue, forming a pool in the back of his throat instantly. He was forced to swallow or choke. At the first intake of blood, a red haze clouded Harry's sight. At the second intake of blood, his eyes flooded with a sliver color. At the third intake of blood his corner teeth lengthened. And at the fourth intake he was greedily drinking from iron-tasting liquid, sucking it right out of the body of Lucius Malfoy.

After a while Lucius was forced to pull back, since he began to feel lightheaded from the enormous blood loss. He slumped down as tremors racked his form, releasing Harry's chin and withdrawing his wrist from the boy's mouth. Within seconds Draco kneeled by his side, "Father, are you alright?"

Lucius barely found the strength to nod, "Release him."

"Are you sure that is such a wise deci-"

"Do as I say Draco, he proves no harm to you anymore," Lucius silenced his protests curtly, and then he gracefully drew a hand through his long blonde hair, while attempting to stand up.

Grudgingly and absolutely against the whole idea, Draco moved over to Harry's side, but far enough so the Gryffindor could in no possible way immediately attack him.

Pointing his wand at Harry's bonds he said: "_Finite Incantatum_."

The first thing Harry did was bundling up protectively, clamping both his hands over his mouth as he gagged, stomach heaving in effort. He released now what he was missing: his heartbeat.

Lucius tried not to give into the temptation to gather the boy into his arms and comfort him. It was simply unheard of! He inwardly wished that he'd be given time to think of the consequences before Turning Harry, but at the time it had been _now or never_. He had tried to prepare himself for the emotional power of the blood bond, but it was useless to fight it; he knew from experience. He settled with resting both his hands on Harry's shoulders, forcing the boy to look at him.

"You are a vampire Harry."

The Gryffindor shook his head and he tried to cover his face with his hands, all the while trying to escape Lucius's touch. "N-no, it's not true."

"Yes it is," Lucius said calmly, "I am your Sire. I Turned you."

"I don't believe you!" Harry spat at him in a hoarse voice.

Lucius grabbed his chin for the second time that day, angling the boy's head to face him, "You were dying, it was all I could do."

With an eye-widening display of strength, Harry threw Lucius off him, and as soon as the man hit the ground, Harry felt the disgusting desire to apologize. Unknown hatred boiled in his chest, and he was unaware of his own fangs lengthening in rage. With flashing silver eyes he roared, "You should have let me die!"

The man remained disturbingly serene, "Then who will conquer the Dark Lord?"

Harry was momentarily dumbstruck, before continuing his fury, "You are a foul Death Eater, his slave! It is your goal to destroy me!" he stumbled backwards to the far side of the room, not paying attention to Draco's sudden dash for the door to lock it. "I don't want to be a part of this sick game you're playing with me!" the Gryffindor hissed between his fangs, repulsion evident on his face.

"Enough!" Lucius shouted, as he straightened himself to full height, "Do not speak of that which you don't know, Liber."

Harry jumped at that, his teeth withdrawing and eyes fading back to endless emerald green, "I-I don't understand…" he breathed, confusion and shards of memories penetrating his mind, "I don't remember."

For the first time during the whole event, Draco spoke up, "You don't remember anything?" he queried a little incredulous.

He shook his head violently, "No, nothing. The last thing I remember is…is… my exam of Transfiguration…" he whispered miserably.

Lucius Malfoy rested his head tiredly in his hand; the worst part was yet to be coming: the truth.

Harry, though, was faster, "How did I…" he paused closing his eyes sorrowfully "die?"

Again, Draco was the one to answer that question, "Avada Kedavra." The Slytherin's voice was strained and he seemed suddenly very vulnerable. He crossed his arms over his chest and shuddered convulsively, closing his eyes, not able to look any longer at his nemesis. It made Harry suspect that Malfoy now also would be able to see Thestrals: he'd seen Harry die.

The raven head did not speak for long while, trying to figure out what question to ask first, "I-I should have died instantly," he said eventually, his voice little more than a whisper now, "I should have been beyond dead, before you could have t-turned me."

Lucius nodded, lips curving up into something that was not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. "You weren't hit full-on, the curse scamped off your shoulder as you dove away. Not to mention you've always been a very persistent kid."

As if given a shove in his back, his knees wobbled, gave out, and Harry found himself sliding down the wall, "Please, tell me… I need to understand," he said in an analytical tone which belied the tremor that ran through his body.

"Naturally," Lucius said with his cultured voice, "But I insist we precede somewhere more comfortable. The library perhaps," he beckoned Harry to follow him.

As he obviously had no choice at all, Harry pulled himself back up his legs, and followed mutely after Lucius. Passing Draco waiting at the door, he picked up the racing heartbeat of the Slytherin as he gazed at Harry with an unreadable expression in his slate eyes.

The Malfoy Manor was positively huge and furnished with the most expensive and rare furnishings ever created. Portraits of equally glacial people, all with the same silver-blonde hair as Draco and his father were lined up against the walls and marble statues greeted them as the walked through the endless hallways making up the labyrinth that was the mansion. More than once Harry saw obscure looking artifacts, which were in no possible way legal. Long, narrow windows reached for the ceiling and every time they passed one, Harry was forced to narrow his eyes against the blinding sunlight. Sunlight! The apprehension struck him like a physical blow, "S-sunlight!"

Lucius glanced over his shoulder, and his eyebrows were arched so high that they were in danger of disappearing, "Took you long enough to figure that one out, Liber." He chuckled richly, "You, or we, rather, are DayWalkers."

Genuinely astonished Harry hurried to walk next to the man that had Turned him, "What?"

"Patience, Liber." He looked down on Harry, "We'll get to that soon enough."

The next question slipped of his lips before he could stop himself, "What does 'Liber' mean? Is it some sort of insult?" he hissed, despite his intent not to.

Draco snorted somewhere behind him.

"It means 'child' or 'offspring' in Latin. That's what all Sires call those who they have Turned," Lucius explained flatly and he finally came to a stop at a huge dark, oaken door. "Here we are." He put his hands flat against the wooden surface and pushed, and the obstacle swung open.

Harry was awe-struck when they entered: never in his whole life had he deemed it possible that there'd existed another library as gigantic as the one at Hogwarts. It took up two levels, with a wide sweeping staircase in the middle of the room leading up to the next tier, splitting the room in two. Books were seated on the numerous shelves lining the high walls, and there were tomes from every era; some were so old that they were kept in glass cases. On the lower level to his left, by an enormously huge window, there was a long desk, littered with all kinds of quills and inks, and he noticed the familiar schoolbooks they used at Hogwarts stacked up at one side of the desk. Rolls of parchments were spilled all over it, in all sizes and colors. On the right side of the library were some comfortable leather armchairs grouped together in front of a warmly crackling fireplace, along with a bearskin rug.

That was where they were headed and Harry chose the armchair closest to the fire, in futile effort to feel warmer. Feeling very small and unimportant, Harry took in a shivering breath. It was not just books, but Harry could also see a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome, each of the moons glimmered in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass- just like the one Trelawny had. He could also see a crystal ball, tapestries depicting the constellations at night, several rare looking stones, ancient swords, axes and other weapons adorning the spare parts of stone walls.

"Amazing isn't it?" Lucius murmured softly, as his eyes took in the sight of his pride.

Before Harry could nod, he was hit by a wave of distinct disbelief. He, Harry Potter, was sitting in an absolutely magnificent library, in the Malfoy Mansion, in front of the fireplace with Lucius and Draco Malfoy. And he was a vampire with Lucius Malfoy as his Sire.

"What happened," he wheezed, rubbing at his eyes underneath the rim of his glasses and resettled the wire frames.

Lucius took in a great sigh as well, bracing himself, "The basic facts: It is the 28th of June during your sixth year at Hogwarts. You have been unconscious for nearly three days. The night of the 24th, the day you took your Transfiguration exam, the Dark Lord attacked Hogwarts."

"HE WHAT?" Harry yelled, jumping up from his armchair, "Ron! Hermione!"

"Are alright," Lucius said firmly, "The school, due to your intensive training of those in the DA classes you gave, was ready… also with a warning from Serverus Snape, who has been spying. Most of the Dark Lord's forces were stopped upon entering through the castle's gates; Hogwarts was harboring one of the best prepared magical armies in history. All younger students had been removed that night from the castle, and the only students present there were sixth and seventh years. Very few have been killed, if I am correct the worst damage was the loss of a limb, no actual deaths… and that's where you come in. Valiant and stupidly brave as you have always been, you had simply struck a bargain with the Dark Lord: you for the castle and all its inhabitants' safety.

As Lucius retold the story, Harry's memory was jogged: screams and cries sounded in the back of his head, and he saw the colorful strikes of spells, curses and hexes shooting through the air. And then those red eyes, and that shrill voice and high-pitched laughter.

His Sire continued: "Obviously, he accepted. You were taken to his birthplace, Riddle House, with a portkey he had been carrying around with him." Lucius paused, and he seemed to strain to go on, "I will not lie to you, Liber. I was there during the attack, and I fought on the Dark Lord's side and I was there when he brought you to Riddle House. Until then I had absolutely no intention of stopping him, whatsoever."

"But then why did-" Harry breathed, distressed.

With a sweep of his hand, Lucius silenced him, "Patience," He frowned, voice tight, "But what I did not intend was for Draco to be there"

At this Harry's head spun to the so-said Slytherin, whose face had turned completely ashen at the mention of the fact. His otherwise so handsome and fair face looked exhausted, dark circles marking the skin around his slate gray eyes, soulful and fathomless. His blonde hair dangled freely over his forehead, as he'd broken the habit of slicking it back with an unhealthy amount of gel.

Meanwhile Lucius simply continued, "I am in debt with the Dark Lord, that's why I have been under his service for all these years. That does not mean I oppose him, I agree with his prospects of pure-blood. But there is a line between devotion and obsession."

"In debt?" Harry asked quietly.

Lucius directed a piercing gaze at him, "Yes, in debt," the tone in his voice stated the end of that particular matter, "Anyway, that night he had ordered Bellatrix to take Draco with her, if needed by force. Apparently, he found that if you, Harry, were to die at his hands, would have been a good trial for his Initiation."

He spoke no more, and two pairs of eyes –one green pair and one gray pair- were regarding the young wizard sitting silently in his armchair. Harry was shaking his head in disbelief and disgust, Lucius appeared completely devoid of all emotion, but if one knew him well, his eyes betrayed pride.

"I refused," Draco rasped, and his eyes fell down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap. He opened his mouth several times again, as if wanting to speak, but eventually he just remained silent.

His father continued for him, "The Dark Lord was outrageous. He cast the Unforgivable, Avada Kedavra, at Draco." Another pause in the hackled explanation fell, and now Harry found himself pinned like a butterfly to a board under his Sire's eyes, "You took the blow."

And then Harry remembered; he saw himself colliding with Draco as he dove for him, shielding the Slytherin from his rushing death. A sharp cutting ache when the Curse hit his shoulder, the cold grip around his heart when he fell to the floor and into Draco's arms as the blonde had automatically caught him. And then, in a flash how Lucius had thrown himself unto both young men.

Lucius was nodding, as if he'd read Harry's mind, "Yes Liber, you saved Draco's life," a genuine smile spread over the man's lips, and Harry realized just how rakishly handsome he was, "DayWalkers each posses a personal power. I have the ability to teleport at will; I can teleport anything I want: myself –which is the easiest and poses me no problems at all-, objects –which require a great deal of concentration- and other people. That of course requires an enormous summoning of magic, and seeing as I had to teleport the two of you, it was nearly impossible."

He looked at Harry from over entwined fingers, "Evidentially, I teleported here. Now I had two choices: leave you to die or Turn you, grant you eternal life and a second chance. I realized that I would have lost my son if it weren't for your dumb courage, and also, I was aware that you are the only one that can conquer the Dark Lord; the madman who'd betrayed my forced loyalty. I Turned you. Taking you as my Liber is both to express my gratitude and for an egoistical purpose. This is my way to take revenge on him."

Dazed, Harry stared off into space, and sagged away into his leather armchair. He felt very in need of a pensive now all the memories flooded his mind. "So I really am death? A vamp-" For a moment the Gryffindor's voice failed, but he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, bringing his feelings back under control "A vampire?"

"Listen to me Harry," Lucius spoke firmly, demanding full attention, "I know this is too much for you, but you need to understand." He waited for Harry's affirmation, and when he received a weak nod, he went on, "Being a vampire is not exactly about dying, that's just one way to look at it. My Sire taught me another way of understanding: your heart freezes at the exact moment of rebirth; a moment for an eternity, a heartbeat ever-echoing with life, rigid at the moment of perfection.

Profound amusement dawned on his face with a smirk, which Draco had undoubted inherited from him, "'Beautiful words, to make something sound better than the truth' my Sire always said, but I found it easier to look at it that way."

Harry nodded softly, it was an easier way to look at it, but he felt so, so hollow. Empty.

"Now, we finally come to possibly the most important thing you need to know: the difference between a common vampire and a DayWalker." Lucius stood up, and started to walk calmly through the room. Harry sat up on his knees in his armchair, so he could watch Lucius during his explanation, "We are DayWalkers, you became one because I Turned you. DayWalkers obviously have been granted with the ability to walk in the daylight, while vampires are nocturnal creatures, and sunlight proves to be fatal to them. DayWalkers are by far more powerful, even though we are much less in number. That is because of two simple reasons, but I'll leave those and the rest for the Elder to tell you." he paused in front of the fireplace, "The Elder is the oldest and wisest of us all. Hawke, that's the Elder's name, will tell you all you need to know. Sadly, Hawke remains abroad until your new school year; your seventh, has already started again. So you will have to be patient."

Harry swallowed numbly at the mention of his school, "I won't be allowed. Vampires -DayWalkers or not- are despised thorough the whole Wizarding world."

"I know, Liber, I know. Even now the whole community remains in delusion that you have died. Your death will not be in vain, Harry. I am not saying I will turn to the light side, but I will contact Dumbledore. That's the least I can do for you."

He didn't dare to believe it; Lucius would never do such thing. "Really?" he managed, but his voice already betrayed complete disbelief. To his slight panic, it came out rather like a scathing remark.

"Another thing," Lucius said with a smirk "as I Turned you, I first bit you and then fed you. That was what made me your Sire. The bond between Sire and Liber is powerful beyond your imagination, believe me. Even now as I fight it, there is an irrational urge to defend you and make you feel better. This is a mutual attraction forged by a blood bond, which can never be broken. There is only one bond that surpasses this one, and that is the bond between a Vampire and his Mate."

"Mate?" Harry queried, slightly nervous.

Lucius arched an eyebrow amusedly, "Yes Mate. When you meet The Elder, it will all become clear. In your case, a Mate is very important. But now, we will first try to come to terms with this unusual turn in events, basically helping you to move on with your life as you left it. Secondly, you'll be learning to control –as you surely have noticed- your amazingly sharpened senses."

"You're the one feeding him," Draco muttered meekly, head bowed with a deep frown on his sharp, albeit ashen features, but more or less composed. He was holding his lower arm unconsciously where Harry earlier had tried to bite him.

"Don't worry, son, " Lucius said lightly, before turning back to Harry who was fervently shaking his head at the thought of having to murder people for their blood, "And you don't worry, Liber, that's another thing that sets us apart from common vampires. The normal lamia is bitter, and knows nothing more than the hollow emptiness inside of him. They do not care what they bite, as long as they are fed. We, on the other hand, have not lost our souls, so we feel. We use the blood of animals, which we purchase in special stores. I admit that human blood is by far more delicious, but any blood from a living creature proves to be sufficient. And you only have to be fed every full moon."

He looked into Harry's white face and felt a roll of deep nausea undulating in his gut. Cursing those blood blonds mentally for feeling so concerned with this young man, Lucius moved to stand in front of him "You alright Liber?" Lucius said with a smile of his own that just barely stretched his elegant mug.

With a shaky breath Harry said, "I'm okay," but his voice sounded perforated and drained, he sounded terrified.

* * *

Okay, so I kind of wrote this chapter in a sudden need to get it all down. I have no clue whether or not this might interest any readers at all. I just hope it will. SO you know what that means: REVIEW! You already took the trouble to read it, so why not leave a few words and make my day and earn my eternal gratitude?

_Edit 14/07_: My eternal gratitude to MortalTransience for beta-ing this fic! Really, I wouldn't know what I'd do without your hard work and honesty!

Oh yes, another thing: is there anybody our there who could help me with the title? It is supposed to be Latin for 'Between sun and moon', but I know this is most likely a very wrong translation. So if anybody knows how to fix it, please help me?

I know I'm going to regret starting a third story, which is actually too much to manage. So don't expect me to update this one regularly! The Shard of Magic is my number one concern, and my own little baby which I will feel more responsibility for. Hogwarts, a High school is there just for the fun, because it's lighthearted and not so overly serious. And this one, well, that's a long story. I've read my share of HP vampire fics, and I felt that I should give it a go of my own.  
I absolutely hate it when Harry and Draco end up shagging one like rabbits within a week, it's just so out of character. People who have read my previous fics know that I like to take things slow, possibly with a lovely amount of sexual tension.

If this first chapter leaves a lot of unanswered questions, don't fret, because it will all get clearer after Harry meats the Elder, Hawke (do I smell the return of one of my OC's? I sure do!).

And yes, I kinda borrowed –cough_stole_cough- 'DayWalker' from Blade. I just had to get Harry able to walk in daylight. And this DayWalker thingie proved the perfect solution, but it does have a nice little twist to it, and yes, again, you'll see when Harry meets Hawke.

So please: REVIIIIIIIIIEEEW!


	2. Beyond the Grave

**Inter Sol Solis et Luna**

**By Wihstrum**

**Chapter Two: Beyond the Grave**

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Stop. Sigh. Back and forth, back and forth …

That's how Harry Potter had found himself pacing through the library for over an hour by now. A hammering headache was pounding between his temples as he desperately leafed through book after book, scroll after scroll, anything he could get his hands on. Anything to distract his troubled thoughts was welcome –and if he could not fight what he was, then he would try to understand it.

The past few hours had passed in a surreal haze for Harry, especially after realizing that he was going to have to settle into living at the Malfoy Mansion –at_ least_ for the entire summer. Replaying the events of the day in his mind, Harry felt as if he'd set foot into an alternate universe. Lucius had actually given him a room, and not just any room, a room that was positively bigger than the Gryffindor common room. It even had adjoining bathroom and was linked to Draco's room as well, in case of emergency. The Slytherin, however, had immediately demanded a key so he could lock the door that connected their rooms every full moon.

Harry had kept to himself for the rest of the day, and to his great relief nobody had stopped him from doing so, seemingly understanding his need to be alone. He'd been completely restless, and there was nothing familiar in his new room for him to take comfort in, he was completely alienated. He didn't have his wand, or his invisibility cloak, the marauder's map, nothing. Not even his clothes, his Firebolt, or Hedwig. Everything smelled different, sounded different, and looked different. Eventually his anxiety had turned into some sort of apoplectic neurosis and that's how he'd found himself re-tracing his steps back to the library, determined to find some answers. After all, he was absolutely sure that if he wasn't allowed to leave 'his' room, Lucius would already have stopped him. Harry had been torn between plotting an escape and seeking out Lucius for comfort. It made him sick how his senses leaped whenever his Sire came within a short distance, the blood of the tall man rushing through his own veins now. Even if he had not left his room all day long, he knew Lucius' exact position in the house, and was also almost certain of what he was doing.

He came to a slow halt in front of the fireplace, shivering slightly at the feel of the bearskin under the soles of his bare feet. Gazing absently into hearth, he regarded how the dancing flames frayed the kindled wood into lambent embers. It was a constant metamorphosis; all based on the same basic principle: destruction in order to create… or was it the other way around?

Harry wasn't even aware that his free hand –the other held a particularly old book named _Magia Posthuma_- had been resting on his chest, mourning over the absent rhythmic beat of life, until his over-sensitive hearing picked up the heartbeat of another person just outside in the hallway. Someone slipped through the door, froze, and hastily turned to leave again, but Harry had already spoken, "I know you're there Malfoy." He cringed at how he'd known it was Draco without having to turn around.

Sensing the rush of blood coaxing the blonde's heart to pump faster as he stood there hesitantly with the handle of the door still in hand, Harry glanced briefly over his shoulder. It must have been late because Draco was already dressed in his pajamas, the nightshirt hanging open revealing a slender torso, lean muscles obvious under flawless skin, gleaming due to the humid summer heat.

The Slytherin was fighting an inner struggle, standing indecisively at the library entrance. And then, as if he were a stranger in his own home, he warily closed the door and entered. "If you were looking for anything related to DayWalkers, then your efforts have been in vain."

Feeling his face heat up, Harry shook his head incuriously, "N-nothing?" he looked disbelievingly at the book he was still holding in his hands, "But someone must have written a book about them!"

Draco smirked as he lifted up a random book Harry had previously gone through, "Do you really think the ministry would have employed my father if they'd known he was a vampire?"

"Are you saying that he's a-"

"An unregistered vampire, yes." Draco finished for him, "The Wizarding world has always been entirely unaware of the existence of DayWalkers. It would be stupid reveal the presence of such a race of vampires –vampires which could actually walk among mortals in daylight." He paused meaningfully and looked at Harry with an unreadable expression in his eyes "You'd all be exterminated."

Biting his lower lip, Harry's emerald green eyes dropped back to the passage he'd been reading, crushing defeat settling in the pit of his stomach. After a long silence, during neither wizard looked at one other; the Gryffindor heaved a sigh, "What are you doing here?"

Draco recoiled sharply, "Speak for yourself, Potter." He glared at the vampire defiantly, before graciously lowering himself in the same armchair he'd been sitting in during Lucius's long explanation. "I always come down here when I can't sleep."

"To do what?" Harry said bitingly back at him.

A mocking chuckle left the Slytherin's throat, "This is a library, Potter. What do you think people do here? Dance the Macarena?"

Briefly thrown of guard, Harry blinked, caught between wanting to snap at his rival or being tempted to laugh. Eventually he settled with, "Did you just make a joke?"

Apparently Draco had already started to read, because Harry heard him snort behind the book he was holding in front of his face. Seeing as the blonde had decided to ignore Harry's presence in the room, the young wizard turned his attention back to his own volume and sat down in the armchair opposite of him.

Time flowed by while the both of them sat there in silence, and as they did so, Harry could hear Draco's heartbeat slow down, indicating he was relaxing. Not able to keep himself from sneaking glances ever so often at the Slytherin -now sitting cross-legged in his armchair, book in his lap- Harry studied him. His artic gray eyes darted over the pages, unaware of Harry's steady gaze. Each thud of his heart resonated through the Gryffindor's own body, which made Harry ever so conscious of the absence of his own. Eyelids slipped shut, and he fixated all his senses on the soothing rhythm. He just sat there, relishing how it felt as if Draco's heart was beating for the both of them, craving the minor tremors reaching his own body.

Draco lazily flipped a page of his book, ignoring the itching stings of sleepiness behind his eyes. He knew sleep wouldn't come to him even if he tried; for whenever he dared to close his eyes, he'd see Harry dying in his arms. He would remember how the Gryffindor's heart had valiantly fought to go on, even though the rhythm faltered, and yet it defiantly struggled for survival. He would remember how Harry's final heartbeat had shivered through the palm of his own hand as he held him still while his father Turned him. He had felt the life draining from him, and he remembered how Harry had unconsciously squeezed his hand, green eyes pleading, even through he barely was aware of what was happening to him. And that despairing silence in Harry's chest when his eyelids closed over those soulful green eyes, long black eyelashes fanned out against his skin.

His breath caught in his throat and he shut his eyes, trying to banish those moments to the outermost corners of his mind. It was his own fault, he hissed inwardly. He had to be the brave hero and sacrifice himself. But ever since he had been hollow with misery, his chest taut and strained inside.

Suddenly he felt the familiar sensation of being watched tingling the back of his neck. Draco's head snapped up, and what he saw tore him possibly even more inside: Harry's face was angled straight at him, but his eyes were closed. A single tear ran over his right cheek. Harry cried silently, like someone who was not used to crying, someone who was used to enduring his sufferings.

He probably wasn't even aware that he was crying at all.

As the first light of the new day hit his eyelids, Harry stirred from his restless sleep. He grunted as his body protested, all his muscled cramped and seized up from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. Blinking against the offending sunlight, Harry slowly uncoiled himself from his leather armchair. A wave of gripping panic rushed over him as he took in his surroundings, sitting up with an incredible jolt, only to slump back bonelessly as the last day's events seeped back into his mind, clearing the numbing tendrils of fog from Harry's mind. The initial shock and turmoil began to recede, forcing him to acknowledge the situation he found himself in. A part of him did not want to recognize and face the truth, but he was who he was and his strength of character would not allow his thoughts to freeze.

A hand was moved to gingerly touch the side throat, and he absently realized that it was where Lucius had bitten him, even though there was no trace of it left. For the first time after 'awakening' he could sense the shift in himself, a supernatural strength humming deep within him. Yet he had only just been reborn as vampire, so his fangs ached for the blood that his instinct knew would make him stronger. He had read and learned about the general limitations and advantages for the common vampire; and though he only needed to be fed every full moon, his instinct yearned for the additional strength and pleasure that every bite would give him.

Getting used to the feeling of this new strength resonating through his body, he hissed a vexed sigh as he had to succumb to his vampire nature to seek out his Sire. That or going mad by the confusing smells and sounds around him. Lucius' blood had given him a glorious energy boost, but his presence was now needed to re-learn how interact with this new world of sensations and knowledge.

And he really needed some clean clothes, he added as an afterthought as he padded his way into the hallway. He came to a stop just outside the library, allowed his eyes to slip shut, and then blindly gave reign to his instincts, knowing they would lead him to his Sire. Again, he halted when his senses went overdrive; it was a consequence of coming very close to his Sire after being separated so long from him for -too long. But then he was suddenly at a loss of what to do, since Lucius still seemed to be asleep. He took this as a suitable excuse to scorn the man inwardly and with another aggravated hiss he set out to find the next available person in the damned house.

Eventually he ended up in what looked to be a kitchen, and before actually having entered the room, he knew that the person currently occupying it was not Draco. His lips pulled into a tight line, as he came to a conclusion as to who it was, seeing as there was only one other person left in the house. Venturing into the kitchen his suspicion was confirmed: Narcissa Malfoy was drinking tea, head bowed over Witch Weeky lying open on the table. 

He must have made some noise because she looked up from the article she was reading. "Oh… it's you."

Harry shifted on his feet, looking cautiously around the kitchen, having absolutely no idea what he should say. Meanwhile Narcissa gave him an unimpressed look, and the Gryffindor was about to turn and leave, before she spoke again, "Is there something you'd like to eat?"

Smiling unconsciously at that particularly phrased question, Harry nodded, "Yes, thank you." he said as politely as he could even though his instinctive suspicion against the Malfoy family was boiling dangerously close to the surface. It was obvious that she was used to dealing with a vampire in the house, for she had said 'would you like' and not 'are you hungry'. Vampires did not need anything else to feed on apart from blood, but that did not mean that other foods didn't taste nice. It was just an additional luxury and Harry was glad being dead hadn't killed his sense of taste as well.

Not much later Harry was quietly devouring the scrambled eggs and bacon, while he watched how Draco's mother moved through the kitchen. It was spacious and pristine, and Harry suspected that most likely house-elves put it to a good use, but that did not seem to stop Narcissa from cooking herself once in a while.

Just when he was starting to settle down from his edgy tenseness, a feeling akin to 'hospital-nervousness,' Narcissa decided to gaze at him from over elegantly entwined long fingers. At first staring at his plate had been a good excuse to avoid her clear blue eyes, but when he scooped the last bit of food in his mouth, he couldn't do anything but to pretend he was finding his fork unusually absorbing at the moment

Exactly when Harry thought he was going to have a fit over the nerve-grating stare, Narcissa abruptly broke the silence, "Why did you do it?"

Startled, Harry blinked and looked at her almost shyly, "Do what?"

"Take the blow."

Unaware that he was gaping open-mouthed at that question, Harry's mind raced through the assorted events. Why _did_ he do it? He was absolutely sure that if he'd known that this would have been one of the consequences he might not have been so eager to take the blow for Draco. Especially not for Draco. But then again the thought of him dying made Harry's stomach clench convulsively, almost despairingly, "Because…"

Narcissa looked at him expectantly, and Harry got the distinct feeling that she knew something he didn't.

"….because…" He looked helplessly at his hands lying on the table, "eh…I,"

The woman was still looking at him, with the same unreadable expression in her eyes that all Malfoys seemed to posses, and Harry suddenly remembered why he disliked the family so much. Scrunching up his nose irritably he settled with a meek, "It was the right thing to do."

Oh yes, she was most definitely Draco's mother, Harry thought and looked away quickly before the amusement in his face became too apparent. She was giving him the oh-so-familiar raised eyebrow, and a perfectly scathing expression on her face to go with it.

"The words of a true Gryffindor, are they not, Liber?"

Apparently teleporting did not come with a sharp bang like apparating did, and Harry jumped nervously at Lucius' sudden interruption. Instincts kicked in before he had any chance to control them and he came to his feet in an irrational urge to be closer to the contact he had denied himself for much too long. He had scarcely managed to grab hold of the little self-control he had left, digging his nails into the palms of his hands angrily. He mentally kicked himself; shouting and screaming: _this is Lucius Malfoy. You are a mere pawn in his plot of revenge._

More then an hour had passed, and Draco couldn't bring himself to continue pretending that he was looking for reading-material. He'd snuck in with the excuse he wanted a book to busy himself with, the truth however was that he just wanted to hear what his father was telling Potter. He knew a fair deal about vampires, as his own father was one, and there'd been another Liber before Potter when he was very young. But now his father's Liber was the one and only Harry Potter.

With genuine fascination he'd listened and observed the interaction between his father and Potter. He was surprised that the Gryffindor was fighting the blood-bond so vehemently -not that it wasn't understandable- but he had seen how a Sire and his Liber behaved around each other. His father's other Liber, Gabriel, had been almost a brother to Draco, even though the vampire had been a lot older. But that's just how the bond worked; it truly was powerful and unbreakable.

And somewhere Draco's between sixth year, and refusing the Dark Lord, his beliefs had become entwined with Potter's. They had been fierce rivals all through their school carriers, and though some of it might have been an act from Draco's side –not that he hadn't meant what he'd said- they had never been indifferent to each other. They had rowed and insulted, fought and hurt each other, but they'd never been apathetic to one other.

Draco swung a chair around, straddling it so he could follow the conversation closely. He folded his arms gracefully, leaning forward with interest. He feigned bewildered innocence when the so-called boy-who-lived shot him with a dark look, agitated that he was eavesdropping.

Lucius was sitting leisurely in the leather armchair, sipping –to Harry's immense disgust- from a crystal glass containing blood. Even though it was not a habit, after the previous day's blood-loss he needed to strengthen up. Every so often he would lick his finger and run it around the rim of his goblet, making the crystal hum softly.

"Okay, let me get this straight," Harry said with a deep frown on his face, having stopped in the middle of the room, eyes closed and willing himself to concentrate, "Garlic will have an allergic reaction on me, and if consumed in great doses it could be lethal. A stake through the heart will kill me, whether it is one of wood or silver. A shape of a cross is harmless; it's the material that can be fatal." He crooked an eye open, watching for Lucius's affirmative, which he got, "I do have a reflection, but I can not reproduce," He could hear Draco's distinct snort 'Thank God not', but he gritted his teeth and ignored it, continuing a little more strained, "The three greatest sins are to Turn a child, to Turn a pregnant woman and to kill another Vampire." With a deep breath Harry paused and arched his eyebrows.

"Very good, Liber," Lucius said approvingly, even though his expression remained blank, "Now, I'll tell you why those three are the greatest sins:" he paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Never Turn a child; you will terminate its growth and in the end you will have an adult soul caged in a child's body. Never kill another vampire: it is possible to kill one of our kin, without a stake, garlic, sunlight or silver. You can literally suck another vampire empty, but if you do so, you are none better than a dementor…"

Furrowing his brown, Harry regarded Lucius with interest, "A dementor? Why?"

A cold smile passed over Lucius's face, "If you do so, you will not kill the other, worse, you'll leave an empty shell with no soul at all. Nothing. Just a shadow, with the only need to feed and sleep."

A shudder ran over Harry's spine and he wrapped his arms around him, "What about a pregnant woman?" he asked quickly, diverting the subject from dementors and soulless bodies.

"Ah yes," Lucius murmured softly, and he looked absently into the hearth, which was still burning in the middle of the summer, but this fire gave of a refreshing breeze and not heath, "It is a great sin, Harry, because in ninety-two percent of the cases neither child nor mother will survive." Then he directed his intense gray eyes to Harry, "I am an exception. I am born a vampire."

Harry's gaze snapped back to Lucius and a thousand questions flew through his mind. But there was one revelation that came like a psychical blow to the gut: vampires can not reproduce, and if Lucius was _born_ this way, then what was Draco?

"Never Turn a pregnant woman, Liber, because if you fail –and you most likely will- you'll have taken not only one but two lives." He exhaled slowly, and the sharp look he gave Harry told him not to press his questions: it was none of his business, "Next, as you might have noticed: your body still heats up and cools down, you still breathe, your body lives. Warm-blooded creatures have heart to circulate the blood through the body; if the heart fails they die. Obviously we are an exception: our cardiovascular system is controlled and circulated by pure magic energy. Thus our body lives, air is supplied to all our organs, our body heat functions and so on; we are much more alive than you might think. The down-side is that we need to feed on blood. Once a full moon is sufficient, but the more you deny your vampire nature this, the more eager it will be when the full moon rises. It is advised to feed once every week, and if not you can build on regular food to keep your body working. But this is what you are: a Vampire. And your instinct _will_ take control if your mind refuses. Be careful with how far you push yourself."

Harry looked up through his messy fringe, in the calculated way that made him look disarming, and gave the other vampire a weak smile.

Briefly caught of guard by the sudden kind gesture, Lucius blinked, ever so slightly losing his composure. He quickly delved into the last part of his explanation, "Finally, which might be rather a nuisance when you return to school; you'll notice that even though we are DayWalkers you might develop a little insomnia. You are a nocturnal creature granted with _the ability_ to walk in daylight, not the other way around."

Lucius made him work very hard, and Harry swore he'd never set foot in a library again after this. His Sire proved to be a stern, but surprisingly patient tutor. He and Lucius were working on the history of vampires, and Harry was never sure whether their sessions made him more intrigued or afraid. The practical side of this education wasn't as simple, since Harry had to be ready to interact normally in his surroundings on a short notice. But if needed, he was a fast learner and within two days he managed to decipher almost 125 different heartbeats of several magical and non-magical creatures, as well as their scent.

At first he tried to avoid Draco as much as possible, mostly because he had no idea how he was supposed to act around him; the Slytherin would have been dead for defying the Dark Lord if it weren't for Harry. And yet something was different between the two of them; the mutual knowledge that they'd had both stood up for one other, despite all the aversion they held for one other. The hostile glares were replaced by ones of irritation or sometimes even concealed curiosity. And if forced to speak to each other, it was with a forced politeness laced with snide comments, which both of them had taken great glee in stomping on as frequently as possible. 

Four days passed, faster than Harry thought they would, and the young vampire managed to settle somewhat in a routine by the end of the first week. On a particularly early morning on a Sunday, he blearily opened his eyes. He had to admit he really liked his bed: it was a four-poster filled with human-sized pillows and several duvets and plaids. Staggering into the bathroom blindly he obstinately tried to ignore his own reflection. As he moved through the room, he could hear the shower in Draco's own bathroom running, which was rather odd since the Slytherin tented to sleep late. Then again the Malfoys had been acting rather suspiciously ever since an owl had arrived with an official looking letter for Draco.

Looking down in the basin as he brushed his teeth, Harry scolded himself inwardly: afraid of his own reflection, how pathetic. But he was so afraid of what he would see. Thumping the wall next to the mirror with an aggravated hiss, he took a determinate gulp of water and cleaned his mouth. Slowly, he raised his head to glare at his own refection. It was there alright, a young man with untamable raven black hair glared back at him. His jaw line was strong and well-chiseled, he had a straight nose and even now he still had an even olive tan. Green eyes were bright but distressed, partially hidden behind his round spectacles. 

Parting his lips slightly, Harry closed his eyes in complete concentration, leaning heavily on the basin. Deep within him he reached for the raw, new source of magic, and as he tried to bring it to the surface he felt the world shift around him. In his vampire form, his new senses came fully to their right, a delicate and ever so beautiful balance between life and magic. When he opened his eyes again, a silver shine glinted through the deep green, a mixture of controlled vampire nature and human. With a shivering sigh he allowed his full lips to pull back over his long fangs. He looked intimidating, that was true, but he didn't look…evil. Or at least he didn't radiate death and despair as dementors did. Frowning, he wondered why people were so prejudiced against vampires. Turning from his reflection he walked quickly back into the other room; he would ask Lucius later.

He was halfway through struggling his way into Draco's biggest pair of trousers when suddenly:

"Good morning, Liber,"

He whirled around attempting to look at the intruder, got tangled and toppled to the floor gracelessly.

Lucius towered over him, arching both his pale eyebrows mockingly, "No need to throw yourself at my feet, Harry, even though it's rather flattering."

Mustering his most sour look to greet his Sire, Harry muttered indignantly, "Don't startle me like that, I can never tell when you're going to teleport."

The tall man looked benignly at him, before his expression turned absolutely serious. "I take it you have noticed Draco's early awakening, as well as yesterday's stirrings?"

Harry nodded, curiosity getting the better of him. Scrambling to his feet and buckling his trousers he waited for Lucius to go on.

"You're going to be buried today." He said blankly.

Completely crestfallen the Gryffindor stared mutely at his Sire. He shook himself out of his reverie, and chuckled nervously, "For a moment there I thought you said buried."

"I did."

As the meaning of those words sank in, Harry started to protest, "B-but I'm here! How can they bury me? I'm not dead! They don't even have a body!"

"It's a symbolic burial, Liber. Yesterday the Ministry has confirmed that your magic is untraceable, and by the law that would mean you are dead." Lucius explained calmly.

"But I'm right here…" he whispered dejectedly.

"Listen to me Harry," Lucius started, voice calm but firm, "Draco has been invited to attend –all the students have been- your funeral, it might have slipped your attention to ask why he wasn't suspected, but after I Turned you here at the Manor, I teleported Draco back to Hogwarts. On the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest I stunned him, effectively keeping him from being accused about your abduction."

Oddly enough –probably from Hermione's intellectual influence- Harry's first question was, "You can't apparate in or out of Hogwarts, so how did-"

"Aaah, Liber; apparate not teleport."

"There's a difference?" Harry asked.

Lucius nodded impatiently, "Yes, yes, but that's for later." He shot Harry as stern look and continued, "The both of us are going there in disguise. I think it is important for you to see."

Harry laughed derisively, "I don't want to see how I'm being buried… that's just… wrong."

"You will want to see this," Lucius told him in a tone which begged no argument. "Trust me, Harry; I think you'll be simply astonished."

Pulling the hood from his cloak far over his face, effectively hiding his identity, Harry tensely listened to Lucius's instructions. The tall man had charmed his own hair to be black and Harry's to be light-brown. Another spell had given them both bright blue eyes and freckles, only if one looked closely enough would they be recognized.

"I have inspected the place of ceremony myself last night; I'm going to teleport the both of us near some bushes as inconspicuously as possible. Do not interact with anyone, do you understand me?" He queried, looking intently at the Gryffindor.

"I understand, but Lucius, why do I need to see this?" he pleaded; he found the whole idea of attending his own funeral rather absurd.

The DayWalker looked him directly in the eye, "To make you realize your true power," was his only cryptic response. "Again, Harry, we must not be seen. Do you understand this?"

"Yes." Harry breathed, pulling his hood even further over his face.

"Good," the wizard said calmly, causing Harry to let out a shivering sigh as he put his hand on his shoulder, "Are you ready?"

Looking up and under Lucius's own hood, he nodded once. On Lucius's own nod, Harry felt as if a wave of ice-cold water enveloped him and before he had time to even analyze what he was feeling and sensing, even before he could blink, he had to shield his eyes at the bright summer sun.

In complete shock he moved to whirl around, but Lucius's firm hand was still on his shoulder, "Hush Liber, we are here. Stay still."

Harry could not believe what he saw as he took in the new location. It was an immense spectacle. Attended, it appeared, by everyone he had ever met. Everywhere were wizards dressed in long black robes, most of them sobbing incoherently in a tissue. In the middle of a sea of white roses was a huge black coffin, his picture –the one that had appeared on the Quibbler- framed on it. Even if his corpse _had_ been in there, two more bodies could have fit in the enormous casket. In his stupor he did not understand what Dumbledore was saying; the words of the grieving speech slipped past Harry.

"Do you understand now, Harry?" Lucius whispered softly, "All these people are here for you."

Partially coming out of his shock he said bitterly, "That's just because I'm famous…"

"Foolish boy," Lucius murmured, but despite the insult his voice was not angry, "They are in delusion that you have died, that you have failed the prophesy, that you have failed all of them. Believe me when I say that all those who were only with you because you were famous are now at home wallowing in fear. The people you see here are here out of respect for you."

A lump clenched his throat as he recognized the first faces. McGonagall; sniffing sadly behind her hand, Cho Chang; eyes red and swollen, speaking of hours spent crying, the Diggorys; holding on to each other in despair, Dobby; wailing dramatically, Remus; looking completely broken, silent tears raking his cheeks, Tonks; head bowed in grief, the Weasleys; Bill holding a weeping Ginny to his chest, Charlie and Arthur embracing an equally woeful crying Molly, the twins standing there; faces contracted as if in intense pain, Percy; mourning silently. Even the Dursleys were there, even though both Vernon and Dudly appeared completely irritated, Petunia hid her face in a bony hand. It went on and on and on, until Harry saw them: Ron and Hermione. His best red-haired friend had his arm around Hermione, the former silently and non-seeing gazing at the coffin, tears streaming freely down his face, the latter burying her face in the crook of Ron's neck, forceful sobs racking her body. Both held a white rose.

"Lucius," Harry panicked, "This is wrong. I'm right here."

"No, Liber," Lucius hissed immediately, "How do you think they would react when you go walking up to them? You have been confirmed dead!"

"But l-look; they're suffering because of me, a-and I'm right here!"

"I understand how hard this is for you, but you need to realize how many people you have touched and drawn to you." Lucius insisted, "This is because of who you are. Not of what you are."

"I understand, please, I want to go." Harry particularly begged him, looking up at his Sire with such an intense look of pain and raw emotion that it made Lucius swallow.

On the exact moment that Lucius started to gather energy to teleport, a loud shriek broke the grieving silence.

"Easy gal,"

The Gryffindor couldn't help but raise his head once more to look at the source of that sound, not to mention familiar voice. Hagrid, who was much thinner that he'd ever been, eyes red from too much time spent mourning, and looking absolutely awful was struggling to regain control over a completely hysterical Hedwig.

"I don' know whot's gotten into her," the half-giant said hoarsely.

The white owl didn't take well on being grabbed so fiercely when she sensed her master so near. And in a complete desperate attempt to join him, she dug her sharp beak viciously in her captor's hand. The grasp weakened just long enough to break free, her silhouette stuck of black against the mid-summer sun, as she swooped high into the air. Hovering briefly in mid-flight to re-locate her friend, she set in a frenzied glide down.

Lucius cursed a string of profanity, grabbing hold of Harry and pulling him backwards into the bush. Hedwig dashed in right after them and as she collided head-on into Harry's chest, Lucius teleported.

* * *

Hail to MortalTransience for beta-ing this chapter! Death to all evil typos! 

Thank you for all those lovely reviews! Those who've read my other fics now I live for reviews. I really felt like I ruined the story with this chapter, but my beta knocked some sense into me, so I put it up after all. SO pleasepleaseplease, make me happy and review! REVIIIEW! Even 3 or 4 words will do, really, but I just need to know how you guys think its going! Thanks!


	3. The Truth Unfolded

**Inter Sol Solis et Luna**

**By ****Wihstrum**

**Chapter Three: The Truth Unfolded**

It was late afternoon by the time Draco finally returned home from the funeral and the formalities afterwards. He had composed himself enough to hold his mask of sophisticated aloofness, but his trembling hands were a dead give-away. The tremor was so bad that he couldn't even manage to unbuckle the clasp of his black dress-robes. The experience had grated his emotions so deeply that he felt light in his head. He was very ashamed of this weak reaction to something so unimportant, and it weighted on his mind as well as everything else.

Honestly, even if it had been so that Potter _had died_, it shouldn't get to him. It was _Potter _for Merlin's sake; annoying, persistent, pathetic little Potter; his adversary.

The whole incident with that ruddy owl for one was Potter's fault; he didn't doubt that. Tomorrow the front page of the Daily Prophet would be littered with all kind of rubbish speculating about the mysterious disappearance of the white owl.

He slowly made his way up a flight of stairs, still picking irritably at the clasp of his robes; the tremor in his fingers still not subsided. He placated himself by saying that _feeling_ another person die in your arms was bound to have some sort of emotional impact. But why was it always Potter that made him _feel_ so strongly? How was it that taunting him gave Draco such a rush?

Calming his erratic breathing and slowing his pace, Draco moved towards the wide-open door from which two voices erupted. He tilted his head so he could look around the corner.

This was a particular snippet of a conversation he would always remember:

"I don't owe you anything!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, though his throat started to go raw. It had been like this for over more of an hour now. "You did all of this for your own selfish and pathetic little game of revenge." His tone hitched and Hedwig, sitting on his right shoulder, had to spread her wings in order to maintain balance due to his erratic movements, "And I don't want a part in it!"

Now that he shouting, he couldn't stop anymore. The pain, the confusion, the doubt, the feeling of failure, the terrible loneliness, and the emptiness, all of it came out. Six years of inner turmoil and scarred childhood. And all of it was directed solely to Lucius. It had escalated from the moment Lucius had made it clear that he blamed Harry for incident with Hedwig. Though they both know it was an emotional reaction to the shock of barely escaping a discovery that would have been devastating, Harry couldn't care to bring himself to reason.

"You condemned me to this disgusting half-life!" Harry spat bitterly, "YOU DID NOT HAVE THE RIGHT!"

At these words, the elder vampire snapped out of his initial shock, his eyes tinting a wicked silver of all consuming rage. "How dare you speak to me like that?" he said with a dangerously silent tone, and every time his pale lips parted, slightly lengthened fangs were bared, "You must respect me, Liber! I am your Sire!"

"Respect you?" Harry laughed derisively, "You who were the source of the corruption of an eleven year old girl! It nearly killed her! I was there! Riddle was sucking her empty while she simply laid there, dying while I, a twelve year old boy, tried to fight a Basilisk with nothing but the Sword of Godric Gryffindor!"

The innocent green of his eyes drained away at a terrifying rate, and soon they were fiery silver, alight with surreal anger coming from both his human and vampire nature. "I should respect you even though you tortured those muggles –people who were not even given the chance to defend themselves? Respect you while you just stood there, laughing at me, just _laughing_ when Cedric dropped dead to the ground?"

By now his fangs had descended fully, and the mere sight of it was frightening as well as riveting. His voice grew low and dangerously resonant; "Respect you though you hunted both my friends and I at the Department of Mysteries? Played with us, and enjoyed it? Enjoyed it when Sirius fell through the veil, enjoyed it when you finally managed to severe the link with the only person I had left that was more like family to me than anyone could even understand?"

With a snarl he whirled around and wrapped his arms securely around himself, leaving a deathly silence behind him. The sad, soft words that came next were spoken with such emotion that they would echo within that room for years to come. "Enjoyed it when I dumbly struck a bargain with Voldemort? Tough luck for you Draco had a backbone, huh? He did not deserve this. I did not deserve this. And you most of all, are a fool to ask respect."

He turned once more, his eyes strangely empty all of a sudden, "You do not deserve it."

Suddenly, with deliberate and surprisingly controlled movements, he began discarding garment after garment, from his shoes, to his shirt, finally letting the dark slacks fall to the ground. Standing in nothing but a pair of boxers, he gathered the clothing in his arms. Then Harry headed towards the door, only pausing once to thrust the bundle in a shocked Lucius's arms, saying evenly, "I want nothing of you."

And then he left.

Folding his arms more tightly around his legs, the cold of the dawning night chilling his naked skin, Harry gazed blankly out over the lake. He absently registered the feeling of his fangs pushing against his lips, the anger boiling within his chest preventing him from drawing them back. Peering through the locks of ebony, Harry ran the tip of his tongue experimentally over the odd thin ridges now making up a part of his teeth.

He watched how Hedwig floated low over the surface of the lake like a small shadow, her beak snapping closed around unfortunate insects buzzing above the water. Shifting his head so his forehead was pressed against his knees, seemingly trying to withdraw into himself completely, Harry Potter wished for the first time in his life that he could be truly gone and not stuck in this terrible half-life. Truly gone and not trapped in this cursed prison of flesh artificially living on pure magic. Not bound to this cold man named Lucius Malfoy. Not a vampire.

Fireflies hovered above the tips of the long grass surrounding him like golden little sparks. Had he not been so angry he might have been entranced with the delicate beauty nature presented for him. Overhead, stars began to wink into view, clustering in brilliant patterns across the darkened firmament.

Fangs ached urgently, and his over-sensitized scent, hearing, sight, taste and touch nearly tipped Harry into a delirium of blood thirst. He had absolutely no control over his new senses what so ever, nor had he the slightest idea what it was that his instincts had picked up on for prey suitable to feed on.

Yet these jarring and disharmonic sensations were nothing compared to the flare of ecstasy that came next; blinding him completely and nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs. Yet through it all Harry snarled in resentment, thinking that it was his 'Sire' coming near to plague him again. Keeping his eyes fastened on some non-existing spot in the far distance, Harry's lips involuntary drew back threateningly.

"Sheathe your claws –eh- _fangs_, Potter." came a terribly familiar and unwelcome drawl.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed, fangs not retreating even slightly, "What are you doing here?"

From the corner of his eyes he could see black trousers covering long legs standing a few paces away from him. "Me?" the smooth voice sounded from above him, "Unlike you, I live here and unlike you I am to be the heir of all you see, so actually it should be me asking you that question."

"-But," Draco cut him off before a full fledged hiss could slip past Harry's lips, "Seeing as neither you nor I have a choice in the matter and to be truthfully honest with you," he sighed in over-acted seriousness as he sat down gracefully next to him, "I'm just here to witness how utterly pathetic the grand golden boy is, sulking here in nothing but a pair of boxers."

Harry turned his head to give him a dark look and was faced with a smug smirk on the Slytherin's face, "Seems like my trouble to come all the way out here was more than rewarding," he added with glinting gray eyes.

"Malfoy, please do me a favor and lend me your wand so I can hex a padlocked zipper in replacement of your mouth," Harry murmured tiredly, cradling his forehead with a hand in attempt to force some control over his instincts. But it was no use, though Draco was sitting at a respectful distance, the smell of his body clung to Harry's senses and it felt as if his fangs were pulsating with a life of their own. He needed to feed and he knew that, but through sheer strength of character he denied himself the pleasure.

If Draco knew the Gryffindor's urge to grab him and gouge deep holes into artery of his neck, he was doing a wonderful job masking his uneasiness. The blonde was stretching his legs out languidly in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. Draco had always been handsome – and he knew that – but now there was something preternatural about him in the dim flickers of the stars above, the light and shadow playing across his features making him seem completely ethereal.

Draco Malfoy. Harry snorted inwardly; how was it possible that the two of them -of all people- ended up in situation like this? …As if it had been planned by powers higher than their own, celestial beings now looking down on them and waiting for the inevitable to happen.

The thoughts scattered and the faces of his best friends drifted past his minds eye. What he would give to see them now. Ron and Hermione. What would they say if they knew? Would they reject him? His kind had been hated and hunted for centuries… He still remembered an article in the Daily Prophet where Rita Skeeter had commented; '…and it would do well for them to rid this world of vampires…'

The Slytherin was staring at him now; a blunt and steady gaze, his slate gray eyes fathomless. Like the night they only mirrored what he saw, but denied any further way into what he felt. If they had been water the surface would have rippled with dangerous currents underneath.

"What?" he snapped irritably; the blonde was looking at him as if he were a caged animal in the zoo. As if it wasn't enough that he was already sitting here in nothing but a pair of boxers.

The other remained unfazed, save for a narrowing of his eyes. A long unnerving silence and then; "Why do you fight it?"

Harry did not look away; he would not let himself. The green of his eyes glowed in the dark, alive and burning with a surreal power far surpassing Draco's imagination. Yet the Slytherin felt a tug at the bottom of his stomach when he saw how empty the gaze was. It had never been so; it had always blazed bright with anger and disgust for him. They had always held a challenge. They had always made Draco want to jam his wand into them. But now…Harry wasn't the same like this, and that bothered him. A sort of nameless anxiety made Draco's hands clench into fists, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

He always accepted the challenge. Always. He lost every time, but he had always done so again. One day he would win. He was sure of it. And now there was nothing, no challenge. Not even for him.

He had to repress every urge to grab his nemesis' shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled. He'd rather fight with the Gryffindor until the end of his days than to face a Harry like this. Just when he started to shift to do _something, _anything at all; the panic was quelled by Harry's determined glare.

"I am nobody's pawn." He said, "Not Dumbledore's, not Voldemort's and not your father's."

An aloof eyebrow was arched and Draco had to smirk. Harry turned to look away from him and the void seemed to settle over his eyes again. Now he didn't hesitate and put a hand on the dark haired youth's shoulder, a mocking parody of how best friends re-assure each other.

"Hey, if it's any consolation…" he paused to smirk at Harry's bewildered expression at the sudden contact, "I still think you're a pathetic little Gryffindor."

Even as he drew away, Harry still remained leaning away from him, green eyes wide. Then a small grin and a roll of his eyes, "Gee thanks."

"Anytime, Scarhead," Draco drawled as he leaned back on his elbows.

That was what started it. It had been an agreement of unspoken words, but both of them knew: truce. Whether it was because both of them were utterly sick of fighting, or because they had saved each others lives, or maybe out of boredom, or perhaps because they had simply grown up, neither of them knew.

But it was there.

Three days later…

Harry prodded and pushed his vegetables absently over his plate, only to reluctantly put one in his mouth after a while, trying to swallow it without letting it touch the insides of his mouth. Not that he wasn't hungry. He was. Very.

Dinner was something he had started to avoid. There was nothing more awful than sitting there with people he did not trust, picking at food he didn't want. And it had become worse after his fight with Lucius. Usually Narcissa would lighten the mood with idle chatter, mostly soon joined by Draco's. Now there was only a tense silence, and even Draco didn't seem to hold his usual appetite; he had been pricking at the same carrot for over ten minutes now, successfully reducing it to an orange drab.

Yet there he was, hunched slightly and cringing whenever he had to chew his food in order not to choke. He was only here because of Narcissa, because the woman had called upon the aid of a tailor who had spend the whole afternoon fiddling around Harry, measuring him and generally annoying the daylights out of the Gryffindor. Now there were several new garments being made for him, ones that 'actually fitted' as Narcissa stressed. Though he much more preferred his baggy jeans and over-sized standard Weasley-jumper, he wouldn't complain. For one he hated having to borrow clothes from his rival, not only because they were too small around the waist yet too long for his legs, but more because Draco loved to smirk about it.

Lucius hadn't touched any of the delicious food the house-elves had gone through so much trouble to prepare. Fingers were laced, his pointed chin resting on top of them, seemingly deep in thought. He was not going to like when Lucius revealed what was going on in that head of his, Harry knew.

Draco stopped drawing non-existent patterns in his carrot-drab and raised his head expectantly. Lucius took a sip from his wine and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. Harry had to repress the urge to roll his eyes heavenward.

"Tomorrow," Lucius began, adding just a sufficient amount of ice in his tone, "We'll go to Grimmauld Place."

That was all he said, like it was as simple as flooing over and saying 'Hi, I'm dead!' He hadn't noticed his fork clattering to the floor until Narcissa actually picked it up for him.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the first syllable got stuck half-way up his throat. He still hadn't forgiven the pale man sitting at the head of the table, not at all. Momentarily he wanted to scowl and remain unresponsive. But then, there it was again - the tug in his system. Sire and Liber. Bound through blood. The glacial eyes seemed like shards of metal, but Harry felt hope flooding from the tall man. Swallowing thickly and shifting on his seat, Harry picked up on the statement, "Do they know?"

It was as if the icy barrier was chipped by Harry's unspoken words of acceptance. He had not been forgiven, nor did he want to, but at least they could try working together again. Not letting the relief appear on his face, Lucius answered, "No. I simply contacted Severus, who I knew would report immediately to Dumbledore. I just gave them some bait to make them suspicious enough to accept the offer."

A dark eyebrow arched incredulously, "And they just agreed like that?"

The trademark Malfoy smirk tugged at Lucius's lips. "Of course not," he replied evenly, "Once we go in, we won't go out."

Trailing behind Lucius and Draco on the walk leading from the street to a battered, black-painted door with a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent, Harry found it hard to breathe. He just couldn't swallow down the thick lump constricting his already dry throat. This whole situation was so bizarre that part of him did not really believe it was happening.

Never in his entire life had he been so frightened. Though a Gryffindor trait, courage was not the absence of fear but the act of conquering it. So here he was, and that was about it, because he was not exactly feeling very Gryffindor at all… especially not with the two instincts within him vying for supremacy.

All three of them were wearing long, concealing hooded cloaks, and Harry had been ordered to leave his hood down to remain anonymous until Lucius told him otherwise. Draco was there for the sole purpose of being able to answer questions under Veritaserum, if the members of the Order so desired. The Truth Potion would had adverse reactions on vampire physiology and the question then would be which party would be endangered most during such an occurrence. And after all, Draco was more or less the key in all that had happened, the string that tied everything together.

The exterior of the house was dirty and unkempt, the windows grim. It felt as he was literally walking towards a tangible portrayal of his own mood, and if that was so, Harry was only more terrified of what would lie within.

The day was dying, the darkness of the dawning night making them inconspicuous to all who might have sighted them. Or at least, that was what he thought until his vampire instinct wailed at the strong pressure jarring his senses with a frightening intensity. And that was when Harry knew they were surrounded by powerful wizards. His underlying abilities picked out at least four of them with striking accuracy: Remus J. Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Mad-eye Moody and Severus Snape.

"Mr. Malfoy," one said in a voice that did little to hide his distress, "If you would follow me."

It was too late; there was no turning back. Harry tried to withdraw in his cloak as deep as he could, eyes only trained on the hem of Draco's robe preceding him. From where he was standing, he could feel the swift cadence of the heart, his fangs throbbing in recognition. Even if all these wizards had been standing beyond his reach, he would still be unable to control them - he was simply too scared, his emotions too riled.

He walked closely behind Draco, keeping his head bowed at all times, his breathing even. But when one of their chaperones came too near, he bit his lip sharply, in desperate effort to keep the feral snarl from being heard. Harry went cold as hostile feelings churned within his being, just below the surface as his vampire instinct recognized every one of them as an enemy.

Or worse: as prey.

Unexpectedly, his Sire took compassion on him, and pushed further into their surreal link than he ever had before. Harry could feel Lucius's presence in his mind, quelling and soothing all the fear, giving him that little extra to put one foot before the other.

They entered the building, into the place that harbored so many painful memories, and it felt as if he were drowning quickly. His human nature was unable to handle the rejection that he knew would come, but his vampire nature raised its shackles against the perfect idiocy of walking into enemy territory, knowing that the three of them would never stand a chance, outnumbered and cornered.

He had been so caught up in merely trying to shut everything out that he hadn't noticed that they'd stopped, and per consequence he collided with Draco's back. The blonde cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but there was no cruel sneer, no mocking smirk. When he looked away again, Harry felt surprisingly relieved.

Taking a deep breath as he bolstered his courage, Harry took in a fleeting glimpse of their location: the kitchen; with all of the Order members present. His breath caught. Ron and Hermione. Not aware that he had started to move towards them, Draco grabbed for his sleeve, giving his arm a sharp squeeze through the fabric.

Suppressing a menacing hiss, he ducked his head down, moving behind the two others. Hoping that it would all be over soon, in whatever end that might be.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," someone greeted politely, with a tone which one would use during a tea party. Dumbledore, no doubt, "May I offer you some tea?" Yes, definitely Dumbledore.

A wave of annoyance swooped from his Sire like a thick cloud. He never had liked the demented old man, and being addressed as an old friend of his wounded his pride, "No thank you, I do believe I came here for more urgent matters than tea."

There was a murmuring of unrest at the action; several order members pointing their wands resolutely at what they thought of as Death Eater scum.

"Hellas," was all Dumbledore said, "t'was strawberry flavored."

Harry was unable to see Lucius, but he did not need his sight to know that Lucius was scowling viciously, if the ire the DayWalker emanated was anything thing to go by. There was a pregnant silence after this, almost as if the cords of tension could be cut with a blade. Someone shifted on his chair. Harry also knew that due to the jeopardy and challange of the whole situation, that part of his Sire's dark nature was enjoying luring and riling the humans in the room. Perhaps he didn't even need his sadistic vampire-self for that.

"Speak up then, murderer!" someone lashed abruptly at Lucius, "Be not so foolish to misstep, and we might let you and your accomplices off with only a life-sentence at Azkaban."

"There, there, Emmeline," Dumbledore soothed calmly, "Mr. Malfoy is only here to offer us some insight on the dreadful events these past days."

Harry could hear Hermione's soul-wrenching sob, coming from somewhere on his left. He clenched his hands into fists, fingernails breaking skin in the form of little crescents.

"Why would scum like the likes of him do something like that?" Alastor Moody said evenly, his tone teetering on all-out repulsion, "I propose we stun him and sent him to the Dementors before he decides to slither his way out of here. Bringing him to the headquarters, Feh! Madness. Nothing he has to say could be worth this great a risk."

"You are no match for me, old man," Lucius threatened through clenched teeth," I could rip your heart from your chest before you'd realize it."

This was going entirely the wrong way and quickly at that.

"AH! There, from his own mouth!" Moody shouted triumphantly, "Pure dirt, no more feeling than the corpses rotting away through the murders by his hands."

Lucius hissed sharply, and his voice betrayed the venom he was holding against this man, "Shut your mouth, human! Before I shut it for you!"

The anger and inner conflict his Sire felt triggered something entirely unknown to Harry. A quiet rumble of a growl made it past his clenched teeth and he bit his tongue to calm himself. It was if his consciousness was extending throughout the whole place, every presence within the room seemed almost like burning spots on his mental sentient radar.

He sensed Moody taking a step closer tauntingly, and as he spoke Harry had to part his mouth to relieve the pressure pressing downward on his upper jaw. "I will shred you to confetti and feed your remains to the Dementors. After all, you have no soul left to suck out! Not Voldemort's personal whore!"

That ignited the all-consuming rage curling around his insides, freeing the violence that had been hidden within him. He stepped forth with a snarl, fangs descending and supernatural defenses coming to the fore. Lucius reached out to restrain him, but managed only in pulling back the hood that had so far obscured his face – and with terrible timing at that.

The collective gasp and shrieks of disbelief meant nothing to Harry as he zoned in to his prey, lips withdrawing from over long, predatory fangs, silver eyes hypnotizingly locked on to his unfortunate target. He did not run, but he strode, seemingly taller and more graceful than he'd ever been. Anyone who had the ability to comprehend what was going on would have witnessed Harry as one of the most beautiful dark creatures they had ever seen. The tan had also faded into a very white complexion, contrasting his hair violently, his lips full and red, bared to show sharp, pointed teeth. A hand shot out from under the long cloak, fastening around the Auror's collar.

"How dare you speak to my Sire like that, mortal?" a snarl broke his sentence, fighting against his all consuming hunger, and the human in him screamed out in abhorrence at what was happening, "I could suck the life out of you if I wanted, you pathetic sack of flesh."

The full power of his true, not to mention angered, vampire nature flared into and out of Harry as if he was a conduit. Absently his mind registered that nobody had come to Moody's aid, and that was probably because all of them were shocked beyond coherent thought.

Everything melded into one red haze, and he tightened his grip on the elder wizard's neck, "Foolish mortal …" the dark creature within him spoke, repeating itself incoherently through the haze of blood thirst. He was unaware that he had lifted the heavy man of the ground with one hand, "How dare you? How dare you speak of my Sire like that? What do you know about it?" A bitter smile flexed his lips, before unexpectedly screaming, "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT?"

"H-Harry…"

_Ron._

Harry dropped the man to the ground as if he'd burned himself, both his hands flying up to his mouth in disbelief. Stumbling backwards all he managed to do was to close his eyes in a desperate attempt to get a grip on what he'd just done. On what had almost happened.

"Oh God, I'm s-so sorry," despair and disgust leaped at him, tore at him, he was a monster with a human soul.

"Harry." Hermione whispered, sitting up straight, her lips trembling "Harry. Is that really you?"

Shaking his head and backing away in to a corner, he replied "No," more to himself than to anyone else, "I'm an abomination."

"Harry?" Hermione had slipped off her chair, her small frame moving towards him, head lowered and brown eyes peeking at him from under curly hair. A hand came up, and Harry could not back away any more, so he flinched away, frightened, certain that he would harm her if he tried otherwise. Yet the movements made the tip of her index finger brush his cheek. A bright smile lighted her pixie-like face, "H-Harry. Oh God! Harry!"

Before he could react, Hermione had thrown both her arms around his neck, and he vaguely registered the reverent chanting of his name coming from his friend. Harry's skin prickled and the hairs all over his body stood on end as he felt the predator in him react to the scent of Hermione's lifeblood coursing under her pale skin. Though he had frozen in her embrace, Hermione clung to him as if she was afraid that if she'd let him go, he'd disappear again. Tears of relief dampened the nape of his neck. Eventually the human in him steadied the dark creature, and Harry's arms came up slowly, holding her carefully at first. And then, at hearing his name in a whisper on her lips, he returned the embrace genuinely, relief flooding his system. A small gasp came from deep inside, letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly, unable to say anything else, "so sorry."

"Harry."

His head came up sharply from Hermione's thick hair, and he stared right into a pair of deep blue eyes that belonged to no other than his best friend Ronald Weasley. Hermione moved out of his embrace; leaving him to face Ron alone.

Both friends just looked at each other for a long time, Harry's green eyes whirling with all kinds of emotions he could not hide.

"You stupid prat!" Ron bellowed suddenly, "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!" and then he all but pulled Harry into a famous Weasley-hug, a treat that he had certainly inherited from his mother, "stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid …"

Harry found himself laughing for the first time since he had been reborn, and he patted Ron's back with a sheepish grin, the redhead having to bend over awkwardly to hug him properly.

"Let go Ron," Hermione warned gently after a few minutes, "Or you'll suffocate him."

"Don't worry," Draco interrupted with all the timing only a Malfoy could pick, "He can't get any deader than he is now. So knock yourself out"

Ron turned towards his arch-enemy, letting Harry go, "You!" he screeched indignantly.

"Yes, me," the Slytherin said with his famous smirk in place, "Been here all along. Maybe you need some glasses? A pair that would match Potter's?"

The tall Gryffindor presented his adversary with a surprisingly glacial glare, and moving to stand protectively in front of the raven haired boy, he said quietly, "What have you done to Harry?"

Off all the expressions Harry had even seen on the handsome pale face, this would have been the one most genuine so far. Complete bewilderment, with a hint of pain at the memory.

Before Draco managed to shake off the feeling long enough to initiate another fight, Harry spoke up; "None of this is Draco's fault, Ron. Things are a little more complicated than that." As he said that, Harry moved around from behind Ron, wearily closing the distance to where Lucius and his son were standing. A pair of slate gray eyes belonging to the latter followed, a questioning furrowed brow appearing.

Letting his gaze wander around the room, the intensity of the stare touching every single one of them as if it had been physical contact, Harry raised his chin, trying to look as calm as the pose was meant to be, "I don't believe we have met," he smiled sadly at the confused expressions, "My name is Harry James Potter, son of Lily Evans and James Potter," He paused, the emotion on his youthful face raw and open, "I am a vampire. Lucius Malfoy is my Sire."

That was all he had to say. All he could say. True to the Gryffindor he was, Harry did not look away, but the tension in the room was filled with unspoken thoughts and clashing emotions.

"Wotcher, Harry." Tonks spoke up suddenly as the silence grew beyond anything remotely comfortable –Not that it had been comfortable in the first place. "Wicked fangs by the way. Makes ya look very badass"

A spike of amusement went through most of the wizards and witches, the positive reaction causing Harry to smile. "Eh…thanks?" he offered, not ever having looked at it that way.

"Oh Harry," Came Molly's strangely relieved sob, Arthur standing behind her and patting her absentmindedly on a shoulder, a look of disbelief and shock on his face as he openly stared at the young vampire.

The lean frame of the eldest wizard in the room rose, his aged hands splayed across the tabletop. "Welcome back, My Boy," Dubledore spoke softly, his voice sounding choked for a reason Harry could not yet comprehend.

As a wave of murmurs filled the room, pushing himself forth from where he was standing in the back came Remus John Lupin; prematurely-old face contorted with something that spoke of emotions so deep most could not even begin to understand.

"Harry," said Remus in familiar his rough voice when as pulled the bemused youth in a heartfelt embrace, "I thought I'd lost you, too."

Harry did not understand why everybody seemed so…happy. He was a dark creature; he was bonded to Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater. Did they not understand? He was dangerous, he needed to drink blood to survive, his heart did not beat, and his eyes became silver when he was angry, as did he grow fangs –They had seen that. Then why was there no rejection? No abhorrence? No fear? He felt those, so why did they not?

That last thought had barely formed in his stupefied mind, when an acidic tone snarled: "Get away from him!"

Alastor had finally seemed to surface from the shock long enough to react appropriately, "He's infected! He attacked me!" he screeched indignantly, gripping his neck as if Harry had actually bitten him.

"I'm s-so sorry, sir… I didn't…I…" was all that Harry managed to reply as a lump formed in his throat.

"Don't apologize, Liber," Lucius said with his usual cool and collected tone, "You couldn't do anything about it; it is your instinct to defend me."

Remus had rested both his hands on Harry's shoulders as he stood behind him, everything about the position protective of the younger boy, "Look at him Alastor," he said, "This is the young man all of us have come to know and love."

"On the outside he is, yes! But on the inside his heart is rotting!" the Auror insisted stubbornly, pointing with a gnarled finger at the silent Gryffindor, every word cutting the young man, "He is a Vampire! A Dark Creature! A Servant of -"

"Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, Alastor?" Remus bit at him, amber eyes flashing with affront, "Because if you do, I might feel inclined to turn to the dark side as well!"

Harry gave the werewolf a surprised, but appraising look over his shoulder. Then it dawned on him. He was not alone. He was more similar to the man standing by his side than he'd realized. After all, law listed them both as Dark Creatures. Perversely he felt more at ease in Remus' presence than he had in anyone else's; even more so than in that of his own Sire.

There was a shocked silence as the meaning of those words sank in, and even Mad-eyes seemed taken aback by what he had almost said, for a moment conveniently forgetting that one of his closest trusted colleagues was a 'Dark Creature' himself.

Harry felt his eyes drawn to those of Dumbledore, only to find those locking immediately with his. "Evil may have created him," he said softly, "But evil does not rule him."

The DayWalker managed a small smile, appreciating the faith everybody seemed willing to rest on him, though he was what he was. And somehow, looking at how Remus went through life, it didn't seem that surreal anymore. It was just a fact that there was little known about vampires, because the human in every one of them, was different from the rest of their kin. He had just begun to learn so himself.

"I believe there is a lot of explaining to be done," Dumbledore continued, looking at them intently while conjuring three more chairs, and gesturing to the three outsiders, "Please take a seat. Enlighten us."

They did. And after a deep breath Lucius began talking, his smooth and pleasant voice weaving an atmosphere that had even those who knew the story enraptured as the truth unfolded.

Harry sat and listened patiently, every so often offering his own experience on the matter as Lucius retold the story. He confessed of his intentions during the attack on Hogwarts, the fear only a father could feel when Draco's moment for marking had come, his son's brave and pure, but dreadful refusal to murder Harry. He spoke of the moment when past, present and future had contorted to that one moment when Harry had shielded Draco from the Avada Kedavra, sacrificing himself. Then coming to his decision to Turn the dying savior of the Wizarding World, and ending the tale with the troublesome incident at the 'funeral'.

When he finally ended, Harry found himself drifting in deep thought, still ignorant of the hand Hermione had rested on his. The stillness was heavy, and all of the eyes in the room were riveted on the enigmatic man sitting before them.

"Another thing," Lucius said smoothly, "I need every person to undergo the Magical Oath, before I can reveal to you the most important thing of all…"

The Magical Oath was an unbreakable, bonding and irreversible agreement to preserve certain information. The one undertaking it would be unable to communicate to another about it, not through words, gestures, writing, anything, not even telepathically.

"And why would we do that?" Kingsley questioned, his left eye narrowed wearily.

"If you want the truth," Lucius said simply, "Then you will do so."

After a heated discussion, the members of the Order agreed to take the oath, the only real negative possibility being that they would be the only ones with knowledge about whatever it was Lucius had to say. Casting nervous glances to each other, the seated rose as one body, raising their left hands in pledge, their rights placed over their hearts.

Lucius looked almost ethereal as he gazed at them through calculating lowered eyelids. At his barely perceptible nod, Draco drew a graceful circle in the air with tip of his wand. It was as if he scorched the air, the movement buzzing and crackling with the symbol of binding, creating a burning, fiery line that hovered eerily in their midst. _"Celo Arcanum."_ The Slytherin spoke clearly, finishing the incantation with a cross in the shimmering circle, indicating the prohibition of revealing the information that would now be exchanged.

"Good." Lucius stated, "Now, Draco, demonstrate…"

He pulled Harry in front of him as Draco aimed his wand at the boy, causing most of the Order to jump up in alarm. Before they had reached them, Draco already said, "_Lumos__ Solem!"_

A jet of warm, bright sunlight shot from the tip, causing Harry to raise his hand to keep the intensity from blinding his eyes. The submission lasted long enough to prove their point, and then with an elegant flick of his wrist, the blonde youth ended the spell.

"Impervious to sunlight…" Remus said thoughtfully, shaking his head in disbelief. He was still standing half-upright, leaning on the table, from when he had moved instinctively to interject; "I don't understand… you should have been reduced to ash by a beam of sunlight that powerful."

"Exactly," Lucius said evenly, the tone of voice anything but clinically professional. "I –and for now Harry- are special."

"DayWalkers." Dumbledore said from where he was sipping at his tea. At Lucius's uncharacteristically dumbfounded stare, he clarified, "Honestly, Lucius, you'd think I wouldn't know about your kind?" he smiled, light blue eyes twinkling madly, "Fascinating creatures, DayWalkers. Though, up until now I have only met one so far." He continued with all the pretense as though he were talking about something as irrelevant as the weather. As afterthought he added, "Polite for a vampire, that Hawke."

"Did the Elder, did Hawke…"

"Came to ask for my aid, yes," Dumbledore smiled gently, aligning his fingertips and peering over them, "Wanted to know if there was anything to the halt the Lacuna; which –if I remember correctly- is what makes your kin so scarce."

"Oohooh… back up," Bill Weasley interjected abruptly, "DayWalkers, Elder, Hawke, Lacuna? Anyone care to explain?"

"DayWalkers are vampires with the ability to withstand sunlight –and much more than that." Lucius said without trying to hide his annoyance, "The Elder _is_ Hawke, and there is only one, being the oldest known among our special lineage,"

Taking a sip from his white wine he continued, reluctant and snidely, "Know that there are only two natural born DayWalkers – The Elder, and myself. This phenomenon is also the reason why we are what we are. The Elder's Sire was a common vampire, but by his decision to risk converting a pregnant woman, he gave the unborn child within the ability to withstand sunlight though the genetic combination of human and vampire. The same happened to me in turn, the woman who carried me was dying, and my Sire, Hawke, accepted her ply to save her child. I was born a vampire, my abilities naturally inherited and thus immune to the Lacuna.

The Lacuna is what happens to all those who are _reborn_ into DayWalkers –which is simply being turned by one. This is what Harry is, reborn a DayWalker as I –being one myself- fed him with my blood. The Lacuna is the waning of the DayWalker blood in him as time passes. There is one single remedy for this expense: The Mate."

Harry was sitting on the edge of his chair, learning more about his near future than his Sire had revealed to him under his tutelage.

"I do not know how much time Harry has left still," Lucius said seriously, not bothering to look at anyone during his speech but Dumbledore, "What I do know is that if he does not succeed in finding his mate, the Lacuna will claim him, stripping him from all his DayWalker abilities to the point he is reduced to less than a vampire. Those who you wizards look at to judge us are those who have suffered the Lacuna. Those who have forgotten their soul."

The confession had caused Harry's entire chest to tighten up and he was breathing in short little gasps, making him feel light in his head. He'd rather gouge a hole through his unresponsive heart with a stake than lose his soul.

"Well then, mate," Ron elbowed him brightly, in an attempt to lighten the oppressive feeling of the room, "Who do you fancy?"

Harry could only glare his unwillingness and opposition to the whole situation, pretending to be very fascinated with how his recovery ability had healed the little cuts he had received by breaking his skin with his nails earlier on. After all, 'a mate', it seemed so… well, complicated. After his little fling with Cho –better know as The Cho-Disaster- in his fifth year, and the other misadventure from last year –something he'd rather not think about-, Harry was not very enthusiastic over the prospect of finding a permanent mate. Harry really didn't know how to react to all this and silence descended as he looked away, unable to deal with his own mind and sentiments at the moment.

"What about school?" he asked eventually, changing the subject in an effort to continue the conversation.

"I must say that this would be the second most troubling complication," Dumbledore admitted honestly, "Due to all the media attention your death has received, it is rather hard to have you simply returning to Hogwarts… But!" he added at Harry's complete broken and crestfallen look at the possibility that he would never return to the only home he had ever known, "I will do everything that lies within my power to assure that you can come back to us. You have my word."

To hear that meant more to Harry than he had ever thought it would –and deep inside, he believed him. He nodded in gratitude.

"For now, I think it would by wise that you went with your Sire," Dumbledore said gently, but in a tone that begged no argument.

Lucius stood gracefully, his long blonde hair falling into his face as he brushed some imaginary dust from his long cloak, "Speaking of which, I think that our departure is in order now…"

"You really don't think you are just walking away from here, don't you?" Moody growled bitterly, his magical eye rolling madly in its socket.

"Ah well, you see," Lucius said with a sly smirk, "If you harm me, you harm Harry."

"I don't see why that would by any problem, leech." The Auror countered; his tone emotionless.

"Alastor!" Molly screeched indignantly, "How can you say that?"

"Enough of these pointless arguments revolving about 'what if's' and 'suppose that's'" Dumbledore interposed smoothly before the disagreement could go any further, "His intentions are neutral and for now only focused on his Liber's safety." He gazed with a knowing look at Lucius, the DayWalker belatedly realizing that he'd undergone the ancient wizard's natural legilimens abilities.

After some goodbyes and other formalities –which included the termination of the _Celo__ Arcanum_- Harry found himself alone in the hallway with the people closest to him while his Sire and Draco waited outside.

"Be strong, Harry" Hermione whispered against his chest, "I know you always are, but just a little longer. It will be alright."

"Good-bye, Hermione," Harry said as he rocked her gently in his embrace, quelling any vampiristic intention firmly, "Write me."

"I will Harry, I will," the brown haired Gryffindor promised, "See you soon. I promise."

Next Ron stepped up, giving a half-cheerful ruffle through Harry's already messy mop of hair, "I just wish you could've come home with us…"

"Yeah," Harry murmured silently, "I would have liked that."

"Wish I could have been there to share the burden, mate," Ron said with a small mischievous grin, "You and I together could have put those Malfoys in St. Mungo's with a nervous breakdown."

A small smile played around Harry's full lips as he looked up to his friend, meeting his eyes. "Hope to see you soon, Ron, more than you can imagine." He would miss his best friend more than everything, especially now.

Moony wrapped him in a one-armed hug, trying not to look as worried as he really was, "Keep your head up, cub, write me whenever you'd need it. Whatever it is, don't doubt, I won't judge you."

The DayWalker pulled the werewolf into a short, but wholehearted embrace, "Thank you Moony. Good-bye."

Finally, he was alone with Dumbledore in the darkened hallway. Suddenly the whole lighthearted and mysterious aura surrounding the man evaporated, leaving deep concern apparent on his wizened face, "Oh, my poor Boy. I am so sorry, I have failed you." he hung his head, seemingly deeply ashamed and ready to take the blame.

Harry was temporarily at loss of what to say. "But, s-sir, I went myself. You had nothing to do with it."

"That's it Harry. I wasn't there when you needed me most," he explained sadly.

Both powerful wizards stood there in contemplative silence, Harry chewing his lower lip anxiously, suddenly experiencing the urge to apologize for something –something he should have done a long time ago. "Sir, I-I am sorry for what happened after S-Sirius died, in your office. I realize that it was unfair and egoistical of me to blame you. I understand now, why you did not tell me."

Dumbledore was watching him with such a stunned visage, before saying softly, "My Boy," and opening his arms. Harry went to him instantly, the paternal gesture printing itself deep within his memory.

For a moment, he felt almost human again.

* * *

_Lacuna_: a hole, empty space, deficiency, loss. 

_Celo_: to hide, conceal, keep secret.

_Arcanum_: sacred secret.

EDIT: Uh, so I kinda forgot to edit out the comments from my beta. I had to go to the theater and I was in a rush of getting it up… –sheepish grin- Sorry! On with the show! (Where did that 'Harr' came from anyway? Sheesh...)

Do know that I appreciate every single one of your reviews, and hadn't it been so much, I might just have abandoned the whole thing. But your motivation and enthusiasm made me feel really guilty and I booted myself into action. 

So thank you, it really helped, and though I might not deserve it after a delay so long, I do ask again for you to review. IT REALLY KEEPS ME GOING! REALLY!

MortalTransience has once again succeeded in putting up with all my mistakes! Must be some kind of badass typo-exorcist or something, I dunno. Therefore, thank you! You are a great support!


	4. A Taste of Paradise

**Inter Sol Solis et Luna**

**By Wihstrum**

**Chapter Four: A Taste of Paradise**

_Dear Remus,_

_I wanted to thank you for your last letter (and of course all the others, too), they really make the days here somewhat bearable. Okay, maybe that is not fair on my part, because all pretense be dammed, they (the Malfoys) have been nothing but civil towards me. They try hard not to show it, though, but it seems that I'm somewhat getting to them. Especially Narcissa seems relieved to have a bit of a distraction around (that being me) now that the brooding shadow of Voldemort is looming over the Manor.  
As you spoke of in your last letter, Snape's information was right; Lucius has endangered himself by acting on impulse. It seems that there has been a confrontation of late, the man went missing for two whole days, and then all of a sudden he teleported right onto the dinner table! It is needless to say that it shocked the magic out of me, but Lucius was a bloody mess. Literally. I don't know what they did to him, but it was really bad. I think they tried to use silver on him or something. _

_It is so odd, being 'allergic' to silver. Of course Malfoy junior finds it hilarious, hiding silver objects thorough the place, knowing that I will accidentally pick them up and get a horrible rash that burns and itches like there's no bloody tomorrow. Stupid Slytherins.  
Ah yes, another something blondie is jubilant about: he is now tutoring me. "Why," I hear you think? Well, being under tutelage of Lucius, who sadly remains my Sire, however much in denial I remain, is somewhat 'too easy'. The pressure of the Vampiric Sense is lessened when Lucius is around, thus making my dealing with all these new things endurable. Thus, seeing as July is coming to an end, leaving me with only one more month of preparation, my training requires me to learn how to manage without Lucius.  
And that's why Malfoy Jr. is training me as of today, and I dread it. _

_I am writing this letter to you surrounded by long wavy grass, and the sun burning on my bare back. I am frightened, Moony. So afraid that if I fail to stop the Lacuna that I will be condemned to nightlife while being consumed by madness. Did you know most Vampires go insane that way? Did you know that the most sick and savage Vampires were once DayWalkers? DayWalkers that failed to find their mate and were consumed by their own powers or rather the lack thereof?  
I hate Lucius for refusing me to tell me more. He insists that the Elder must do it. What if it is too late by then? Already I panic when I have to shield my eyes because the sun seems too bright; I keep thinking: "Is it normal that it stings so?" or "Why do I have difficulty breathing? I didn't run that far?" Perhaps I'm over-reacting. Perhaps not._

_You are the only one I feel I can tell this. And I am doing this now, on paper, because I will probably fail to tell you this in person. It seems easier to write it down. Like a journal. Thank you for your support, it means a lot to me._

_I hope this finds you well,_

_Sincerely_

_Harry. _

A pair of emerald green eyes scanned the contents of the letter idly and the owner of said-green eyes grew irritated by how pathetically un-Gryffindorish he sounded in the last two paragraphs. For a moment he hesitated, his hands in a ready-to-rip-in-two position, frowning at the offending piece of paper. Urging the swell of anger down, he folded it quickly, slipping it in the back-pocket of his trousers.

Harry Potter looked up to find Hedwig swooping down on his bend knee, hooting indignantly.

"I'm sorry girl; I can't have you deliver this letter. You'd be recognized and captured immediately." He apologized meekly, somehow hoping that she would understand. She didn't. Digging her sharp beak in the dark material of his pants and twisting it, Hedwig screeched persuasively.

Stroking her soft feathers consolingly, Harry tried again, "I really can't sweetheart, but I'll tell you what: we'll get you some Owl Skins, sounds like an idea to you?" he tried to bargain. Aware of how absurd he must have sounded talking to an owl like that, the matter just got increasingly more embarrassing when he stood and started towards the Manor only to find Malfoy Jr. facing him with just about the smuggest smirk ever on his haughty face.

"Though I am terribly sorry to interrupt your little amorous tête-à-tête with your feathery friend," Draco started, wagging his eyebrows once, "We need to get started on your training, and unlike your useless hanging around all day, I have a rather busy schedule _and_ a social life so I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

Harry regarded him impassively, not about obey Malfoy's every finger snap, "And what if I don't feel like it?"

"Then you'll have one very pissed off Sire on your hands, that's what," he paused to smirk at Harry's dark scowl, "As for the letter-delivery, you can use Morpheus, my owl, later if you want."

Blinking at Malfoy's offer, though he was not about to decline, he answered wearily, "Thanks…"

Draco did not answer and strode towards one of the small bushy patches dotting the country-side surrounding the Manor, the mid-thigh long grass swaying around him as he walked through it and away from the Gryffindor.

Apparently he wanted Harry to follow him, and grudgingly, he did, but not without offering a last apology to Hedwig as he sent her off. Then he took a short jog to catch up with the blonde, falling in pace with him as he reached him. A few seconds passed, the only audible sounds being the buzzing insects and the rich and uncountable sounds of nature's life, blending around them in a strangely calming sort of melody. Looking down at his feet, Harry couldn't help but notice that with each step he took, leafhoppers, disturbed by the sudden intrusion, were springing away by the dozens.

He couldn't exactly say he was comfortable enough around the blonde Slytherin to walk with him in silence, but paradoxically he also wasn't completely comfortable with talking to him, so he settled for a little bit of both, "You know that your owl's name reminds me of a movie? A Muggle movie?" It wasn't a taunt really, but he was rather sure that 'Muggle' would at least needle Malfoy a little bit.

Draco looked at him almost perplexed, if not only by the unusual statement. Almost hesitantly he answered, seemingly afraid that he admitted acknowledging it, "Yes, I know; The Matrix, right?"

The Gryffindor stopped dead in his tracks, mouth wide-open in shock, "You've _seen_ a Muggle-movie?"

"Correction," Draco answered, giving a not-quite-sneer, "Pansy watched it. I just happened to be unfortunate enough to stop by right then."

Of course that didn't help Harry's dumbfounded expression even slightly, "_Parkinson_ watches Muggle movies?" He tangled a hand in his hair, shaking his head, "Merlin, I need to sit down."

"Oh, cut the dramatics, Potter," Draco snapped at him, starting back on his way to the unknown destination, "So Pansy likes Muggle movies. Get over it."

At first Harry opened his mouth to ask another question but at seeing the annoyed frown on Malfoy's face he thought better of it. Instead he brooded inwardly, strangely thrown off guard that the Slytherins were acquainted with Muggle movies, as their House was known for their utter loathing towards the lesser, non-magical humanoid life forms. Though Harry had learned that not all Slytherins were that biased, it still came as a shocking revelation that Hogwarts's Mean Team was naming their owls after movie characters.

Harry smiled inwardly at the title Ron and he had given them during sixth year when Malfoy Jr., Parkinson and Zabini had formed an almost never seen apart hip-to-hip trio. That being almost as close as a parody on Ron's, Hermione's and his friendship, they had dubbed Malfoy and co the 'Mean Team', while they called Harry and his friends tauntingly the 'Dream Team'. Stupid really, but they still _were_ teenagers after all, he reflected.

After a minute or five of travel in silence, Harry couldn't bare it anymore and a question slipped from his lips that had been itching to be asked since the rumors had spread in Hogwarts, "Malfoy," he spoke tentatively, drawing the other's attention, "Is it true…?" he faltered, realizing how bloody personal the question he was about to ask was.

Draco glared at him half-heartedly, "What is it now?"

"Is it true…" Harry started again, kicking himself inwardly that he was blushing over such a stupid question, "Is it true that you and Pansy are engaged?" He could feel Draco glancing sharply at him and he tried to keep his eyes focused ahead of him.

"Why do you ask?" Draco said slowly, evading the question.

This time Harry looked him in the eye, having to tilt his head upwards due to the difference in height, "Because I would like to know the truth."

Pausing mid-stride only briefly, Draco bore his eyes into Harry's calculatingly. Then he shrugged, figuring it didn't matter, "Not engaged," he said in his ever slightly hoarse tenor, "But it is tradition for purebloods to find a partner of an equally honorable blood-line. For now, Pansy is the most logical choice for me, unless I find another _suitable replacement_."

Harry glared at him angrily, "Don't talk about her as if she were a kettle." It was beyond him why he was defending the horrible Parkinson brat, but he blamed it on Gryffindor nobility and principle.

A pair of slate gray eyes rolled heavenward exasperatedly, "They're only women, Potter, no need to get so upset."

Within a blink of an eye, Harry felt the miniscule amount of sympathy, if that was what you could call it, toward the Slytherin evaporate, and the urge to land him a punch right on the nose and feel its bone snap under his knuckles increasing. Even his fangs dug into the soft flesh of his lips, and he whirled on Draco, hissing softly.

The blonde, however, smirked, and bit his lower lip as if he were repressing a smile.

Then it dawned on Harry, "You're fucking shitting me, right?" he said with a sheepish sigh.

Draco actually laughed softly at that, his handsome face splitting in a wide grin "Such naughty language, Potter, but yes. I was as, you put it so delicately, 'fucking shitting you'."

Both of them stared at each other for a few seconds, one still grinning, the other glowering, before resuming their walk.

"Honestly, Potter, do you really think that badly of us pure-bloods?" Draco asked, sounding curious instead of the expected vexation.

"No," he replied, "Ron's one, remember," Harry smirked at him. "It's just an anti-Slytherin thing, really."

"I feel flattered," Draco replied dully, "But anyway, time to end our strange and almost non-violent conversation, I'm afraid. We're here." With a flourished sweep of his hand he indicated to the shrubbery covered field, the softly rolling country stretched out before him seemingly endless.

"Lucky for me this is a task that requires little of my participation, but only sitting here, while you, my little Scarhead, are going to search out a cloth I hid here a few hours ago." He explained, looking for all the world as if he were talking to a three-year old.

"A cloth?" Harry said with a disbelieving chuckle, "How am I supposed to know that I have found the right cloth?"

"Because I slept with it..." he trailed of, making it sound as if it was completely obvious. When he found Harry still staring incredulously at him he continued more impatiently, "Obviously, you have to know my scent. So c'mon smell me."

Harry spluttered indignantly, "Smell you? My God, Malfoy, are you developing a dirty little fetish or something? What would your daddy say if I told him that his son demanded impudent little Potter _smell_ him?"

"My _daddy_ would say that you are deeming yourself much too special to even be close to a sexual fantasy for me," Draco returned the taunt easily, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked slightly down at the DayWalker, "C'mon; don't be such a pain and just do it."

"Yes oh, Mighty Lord." Harry saluted derisively, yet feeling more than a little uncomfortable with approaching Draco in such an intimate way, not trusting his vampire instinct at all. Slowly, not at all smiling anymore, Harry invaded the blonde's personal space. The latter had stilled completely, too, as if somehow knowing the jeopardy of what he was asking of the new-born, unfed vampire.

By now, Harry was standing almost flush against the rigid youth, and he shivered as his senses went into over-drive. Somehow, he realized, this too was a part of the training. It felt as if Draco was all around him, surrounding him and Harry felt the urging pulsating sensation in his mouth and not a little dismayed as he remembered that soon it would be a full-moon.

How that heart pumped the life-blood so deliciously fast through that body now; so perfectly contained, warm and fresh. And how tantalizingly good this human smelled; certainly not _just_ prey, but something that he would have to mark and not kill.

In an almost detached fashion he noted how close the human was, how close that pulsing artery in that neck was. He only had to straighten a little and he would be able to gouge two holes in that beautiful sun-kissed skin. Even better might even be to just take a little sip; after all, he reminded himself, _this_ creature was not even close to a prey. Oh no, this was much more, much better.

Almost heady with need Harry pulled back slowly, his eyes hooded almost leisurely and his fangs gleaming between his swollen parted lips. The thirst was so bad that his mouth ached and the world spun. It took him the better of two minutes before he managed to rein in the longing desire. After cautiously making sure he had everything under control, he opened his eyes. It was as if the sounds crashed into him, enveloping him and pounding into his mind with frightening force. In an instant he felt the unexplainable and the shameful need to press himself close to Draco and hang on to him for dear life. Instead, he took a step back, and away from the blonde struggling helplessly to withdraw his fangs.

Draco looked at him, his eyes abysmal puddles of dark gray that seemed to bore straight into you, yet strangely guarded. In that moment Harry felt some sort of respect towards his adversary, understanding that it must have taken a great deal of courage and _trust_ to allow an inexperienced vampire so hazardously close.

They locked eyes only for a second, but that was more than enough for the message they needed to convey.

Then, almost as if nothing of the sort of what had passed between them had taken place, Draco said, "Well, then, find that cloth and bring it back."

"I am not a dog, Malfoy!" Harry retorted indignantly, happy to fall back into their usual bickering. At least things appeared so much more uncomplicated this way.

"Gryffindor, Griffin_dog, _like it makes any difference." Draco said with a casual wave of his hand, peering out over the green fields stretching out before them, "Now go on, Fido!" he clapped his hands derisively, cooing at Harry if he were a small and insignificantly adorable Jack-Russell terrier.

Deciding that he had enough of Malfoy's lame jest he started ahead into the direction the latter's had indicated earlier, "Whatever, blondie, whatever."

Harry trudged away in a swift pace, his delicate senses picking up the shift behind him as Draco lowered himself down between the long grasses, sending a burst of small insect life propellering upward in a flurry of zooming specks. It surprised Harry how much distance he was required to put in between the distracting scent of Draco Malfoy and himself, before he was able to focus himself on finding an object with exactly the same smell.

Surprisingly, it didn't take Harry all that long to pick up the now-familiar scent that belonged to Draco Malfoy, and successfully track it down. Following the lead of his nose and instinct, allowing his vampire nature to rise just below the surface, he eventually came to a stop in front of a flowering bush. He could see the white cotton cloth tangled between the branches, and he reached out to collect it. But a sharp sting sparked through his finger, causing Harry to jump back, a loud curse slipping of his lips. Apparently Draco Malfoy had found it extremely amusing to hide the cloth in a thorn bush.

More than fifteen minutes and much profanity later, Harry Potter was trudging his way back across the field, Draco's blonde head coming into view. It reflected the sun brightly, almost shining amongst the green ocean of nature's tones. The cloth was rumpled into one clenched hand, and Harry was grinding his teeth almost audibly.

When he was almost on top of him, Draco looked up disinterestedly, "Took you long enough," was his scathing remark, but the mischief dancing in his eyes told Harry that the Slytherin knew _exactly_ why that was.

"So you think you're funny?" Harry breathed, flinging the ball of cloth into Draco's face.

Apparently he did, "Oh, don't be such a crybaby, Potter," he chuckled smugly, "Besides, it heals instantly."

Harry had already been told about a vampire's natural healing abilities; even still, he examined wide-eyed his hands and wrists, which had been marked with pinpricks of blood and red scratches mere moments ago. There was no trace of them now.

Grudgingly, knowing that it was useless to defend his argument against the blonde, Harry made to move back toward the Mansion, not slowing his pace when he felt Draco hurry to get to his feet and chase after him. They progressed more quickly this time through the fields than they had in coming, Harry wanting nothing more than to be on his own again. The silhouette of the stately building loomed into view, the sun rendering the house nearly impossible to look at as its glare blinded their eyes from its position in the upper atmosphere.

His intention being that of ignoring Malfoy and retreating to the soothing solitude of his room were disturbed as his adversary cut off his way, forcing him to halt and confront him. For a moment it looked as if Draco was going to apologize and then seemed to change his mind, figuring that the boy-wonder was overly temperamental over such a preposterous little thing, and offered the closest thing to an apology instead, "I'm going to collect your stuff this evening." He said calmly.

Harry didn't seem to catch on, staring at him dumbly.

Crossing his arms over his chest, and sighing deeply, Draco clarified, "Your wand, your broom, your trunk," he summed up, "Your stuff. After what the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters did to father, it didn't seem very wise for him to leave the house within the next several days. So I am doing it instead."

Joy settling in his system, Harry could only gape at Draco mutely before he managed to choke out a hoarse 'thank you'.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Draco turned on his heel and disappeared into the house.

Still rooted to the spot, Harry licked absently his dry lips, eyes transfixed non-seeing in the direction Draco had disappeared. He was going to get his things back. His wand, his Firebolt, the Marauders' Map, his Invisibility Cloak, the photo-album of his parents, the personal memento's of his friends, everything. And Draco was doing it for him.

The next day, whence Draco had returned his personal belongings as he had announced the previous day, Harry was seated in one of the soft, velvet couches that made up the furniture in the Parlor. In his hands, which were trembling with delight, was his wand; the small wooden magical object shivering as if it was glad to be held in the hands of its wielder again. Strewn about him on the floor were some of his robes and his schoolbooks, things he had touched and laid down again to take out the next until he had found his wand. 

Narcissa and Draco were occupying a comfortable two-seat, watching Harry almost wonderingly. How one could possibly be so elated in seeing all those rather mediocre possessions was beyond them. Yet, they were privately enjoying themselves just watching how Harry's face would light up when he would lift a simple book out of his trunk, as if the item was treasure. Inwardly they probably envied him, for the Malfoys were not able to feel the emotions Harry was now feeling. If a possession was lost, it was simply replaced, most preferably with a better a more expensive one. However, to the vampire, it seemed that even the most threadbare sweater was priceless, and to take pleasure out of such a simple thing was far beyond comprehension of the Malfoys. Almost shocked, Draco wondered when it was that he had last felt so enthralled at receiving something, let alone _grateful_. And for a moment, he felt as if he would give anything to experience what Harry was feeling now.

It had been since he had seen his friends at Grimmauld place that Harry had smiled so brightly, and he was almost certain that he wouldn't stop doing so for whole week. Almost lovingly he took out the tattered quill Dean Thomas had lent him a few years ago. It was ruined beyond use now, having been crushed under books and school robes all that time, but somehow Harry took great comfort in just remembering the friendly gesture. At least his being turned into a vampire hadn't changed his emotions; because Harry was sure he hadn't felt this giddy in a long time.

Cautiously, he made sure to leave the Map and his Cloak on the bottom of his trunk where they remained hidden from curious Malfoy eyes, and satisfied himself instead by just letting his fingers run over them. Later, in his room, he could take them out without having to worry about anyone seeing them.

Lucius had been strangely absent the whole day, and after making sure he was safe in the Manor by tugging carefully on the blood bond, Harry was rather glad for it. After all, he would feel rather ridiculous with his Sire watching him take such pleasure out of something as mundane as being reunited with his possessions. It didn't feel natural to act like this in front of Mrs. Malfoy and her son, either, but after overcoming the initial awkwardness he had simply ignored their fascinated gazes.

Taking in a deep, satisfied breath, Harry began tossing his stuff into the chest again. Taking one last, fond look at the jumble inside, he flipped the lid closed, leaving only his wand balancing on his knees.

"Now we can start practicing magic," Draco said, nodding at the wooden phoenix-core wand.

"Practicing?" Harry queried, hands still resting on the lid.

"Yes, especially dueling," Malfoy explained, looking at Harry intently, "Seeing as now in combat your vampire nature will feel threatened and it is _my_ job to prepare you for when that will happen. Otherwise your instincts will go over-drive and you will be devouring and gutting your opponents alive."

"Language," Narcissa chided, but without animation, as if this was a common rebuke for her son

Harry swallowed thickly, scenes of blood and gore already flashing before his eyes. After a moment he nodded, looking down at his hands, his joy effectively tempered. 

Harry watched how Draco's colorful curses flew back and forth across the room, leaving a sparkling trail in their wake. Three days ago they had started practicing magic in general, Harry startled by the rather profound change it had gone through now that he was a dark creature. It felt almost as if he were forming the spells within his mind and body, channeling them into his wand to convert them from raw magic to a proper spell. Before it had felt as if_ he_ were drawing magic _from_ the wand. It was a most curious experience.

Then, after he had gotten used to doing magic himself, Draco had performed a few harmless spells, and that alone had already raised Harry's shackles. Again, he had been amazed that it was because Draco was actually a far more powerful wizard that Harry had perceived him to be. After all, in just about every confrontation and duel Harry and his friends had gotten with Malfoy, he had always been the one that had been forced to yield under a series of rather embarrassing hexes, jinxes or curses. Yet somehow, somewhere deep inside the young blonde wizard was a great potential waiting to be discovered.

And, finally they had gotten this far, to the point where Draco was casting offensive spells randomly, not directly at Harry, but close enough for him to feel uncomfortable. Every time the Slytherin would direct a curse close enough for Harry to feel the magic causing the hairs on his neck to rise, he hissed, feeling the urge to defend himself and even more preferably to damage his opponent. Draco had been right, if Harry had gotten involved in a duel without being accustomed, he would have very likely snapped and gone berserk.

He was standing rigid in the middle of the spacious room, which was specially counter-spelled for any damage magic could do. Some sort of dojo, but then for magic, a dueling room really. It was also enchanted with wards that would send out a signal when the participants or occupants were wounded. Normally, such a dueling room would have wards against Unforgivables and Dark Magic, too, but not in the Malfoy Manor.

Enduring the treatment for over more than an hour and a half, having managed to calm down enough for him to ponder other matters, Draco ended his haphazard session and observed Harry apprehensively, trying to decide whether the Gryffindor was alright. After confirming that he was doing rather impressively well, he decided to take it just one last step further.

"Think you're up for a duel?" he asked, smirking haughtily as to coax Harry into accepting the challenge. After hexing thin air for nearly two hours, he would like to have _some _opposition.

On first instinct, Harry seemed to hesitate; feeling rather unsettled about having to strike Draco with magic, certainly after the vampire in him was rather riled from being taunted so excessively. But, as always, he just couldn't back off from a challenge Draco Malfoy, his all-time rival, presented, however sensible it would have been to do so. Letting an impish grin spread over his lips, he nodded, his hand already pulling free his wand.

They positioned themselves opposite of each other, the distance according for a Wizard's Duel setting them apart. For the better of a minute they just looked at each other, both struggling to keep themselves calm and collected. Draco gave an obnoxious smirk, and made a barely perceptible bow. Face completely devoid of any emotion, Harry did so too, his eyes never leaving the Slytherin. Before he had the chance to completely stand up straight again, Draco had already flung a nasty curse at him, forcing Harry to dive away recklessly.

Scrambling to his feet hurriedly, he cast the first thing that came to his mind: The Bat-bogey hex. Unfortunately his being thrown off guard was enough to miss Draco entirely, who was already sending a row of multicolored buzzing sparkles of magic towards him, again forcing Harry to lunge out of their path.

This time though, he didn't bother getting up. As he was going down to the stone floor he re-cast the Bat-bogey curse, this time soaring past Malfoy nearly a hair away. It was Draco's turn to give a yell of surprise and throw himself clear.

Back and forth they went, careful at first, but both steadily getting more and more determined to emerge from this session victorious. The hexes grew more vicious, the moves got more bold, and the duel more intense.

And the vampire more enraged.

Through the gracious wide arcs that made up the windows, which were spread open widely to tempt some stray breeze to lighten the heavy and humid summer evening, one could see the moon. She was glowing eerily silver this night, almost a perfect circle. In two days she would be completely round, having reached the state of Full Moon; or, as known for Dark Creatures, the night of awakenings: the night for them to carve and need and seek and claim.

Draco was shouting unintelligible things, swift and creative in his assault, knowing that he would have to be patient if he wanted to win. He couldn't out-win Potter in one move; he would have to do so by observing him, and taunting him to stray past his defenses in an attempt to reach Draco.

What he didn't know, though, was that Harry had been trained to keep his head clear in such situations and that he could outlast Draco if he wanted to. Being the savior of the Wizarding world required such skills to survive. He, too, was waiting for a mindless lapse in the blonde's approach, trying to lure him.

It went on longer than it should have, the two equaling each other. Under normal circumstances Harry would probably have been able to change Malfoy into a pink-spotted frog if he wanted to, but having to struggle with his rising of the boiling sensation that came from within, he was having trouble trying to focus.

And as the struggle continued on, he just wished for it to be over, the pressure making him gasp for air. With that in mind, a bright light gathered at the tip of his wand, the magic siphoning from Harry's body. Then he released it, and it streaked right through Draco's defenses and drawing a pained groan when it scorched his cheek.

In shock, Harry dropped his wand, bright golden sparks shooting from the end as it clattered to the floor. Not knowing what sort spell he had just preformed, but feeling that he had simply hurt Draco with pure magic, Harry approached swiftly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he said worriedly, biting his lower-lip.

Hand still pressed against his burning cheek, Draco tried to wave it away. Normally he would have snarled and spat, or moaned like a wounded animal though the injury was minor. But now he felt that he should at least keep his dignity after losing this duel.

"Don't worry," he mumbled, "Just a scratch." Carefully, he removed his hand, feeling his fingers come away wet and sticky with blood. "Dammit," he muttered, annoyed.

It was about then that he felt the entire atmosphere take a magical shift around him, rendering all of the usual buzzing sounds of nature's nightlife to die away in a pressing silence. It was as if the very air was closing in around him, trapping Draco within its impenetrable silence, making him feel vulnerable and hunted.

And then realized he was.

A few paces away from him stood Harry, gazing at him with eyes that were silver colored and spoke of thirst. Fangs were showing through his parted lips, which seemed somehow redder against the rapidly paling skin.

"Harry?" Draco said thickly, very cautiously taking a small step backward.

The human within Harry was struggling, fighting, but his control was plummeting downwards fast, taking all his reason with it. It needed to be fed, and it must be fed now, that was all Harry seemed to remember, and all that seemed of any importance at all. In front of him was this perfect human life form, the beat of his lifeblood thudding intoxicatingly. The closer he came, the faster it went, calling for him, tempting him with whispered seductions only a vampire could understand.

Before Draco could do anything about it, Harry was almost flush against him, and though he was taller than the Gryffindor he felt insignificant and defenseless. Harry didn't look horrible and frightening; instead he was radiating such power and emanating so much magic that it was almost tangible. Eyes that were once green were glowing bright silver; and though that was all he seemed to be able to focus on, it felt to Draco as if Harry were the physical embodiment of perfection.

Suddenly Harry's hand shot up with vampire speed, something the human eye could not see. The fingers locked around Draco's chin, while being almost gentle it was an inescapable grip too.

"Harry?" he tried again, his voice was a tremble, barely audible. He tried not to move his lower jaw, not wanting to rile the vampire. "What are you doing?" Feeling the breath ghost over his face, Draco prayed that the small scratch had been enough to trigger the wards.

The silver eyes settled unto his, and he looked at Draco with an expression on his face the Slytherin had never seen before. "I won't hurt you." Harry said softly, his voice deeper than it had been, almost a baritone burr.

Slowly Harry tilted his head closer and for a moment Draco was entirely sure he was going to kiss him; instinctively he closed his eyes, his whole body going tense. While a small part of his consciousness continued to scream at him, ringing like alarm bells between his ears, urging the Slytherin to run, to fight, to defend himself, to do anything at all, Draco was experiencing the complete inability to move his feet. To his everlasting horror he suddenly realized that Harry was _not_ going to _kiss_ him, but going to _taste_ him.

Almost lovingly Harry nipped at the shredded skin, shuddering in delight as the first drops of blood melted into his mouth. The human had gone entirely still, barely breathing in its fright, but the vampire did not particularly care at the moment. Then he allowed his tongue to slip out between his lips, mindful of his razor-sharp fangs, and lap at the wound. Tremors wracked his starved body, and he let out a trembling breath, letting go of the human's chin, and coiling his arm around the small of his back instead, drawing him close. He rested his forehead against Draco's temple, the scent of the sweet blood directly under his nose and let the hand of his second arm tangle in the soft blonde locks.

Draco could do nothing but clutch at Harry's shoulders, his head resting on the vampire's left shoulder, eyes staring unblinking at the ceiling. This was going to hurt so much, he knew, and his fingerprints would probably leave marks on Harry's shoulders where he had gripped them. If he were alive to see anything at all, that is. Then he felt Harry shift again, now that his arms were securely around him, the sensation so dreadfully like that of a hearty hug, his lips now settling over the wound. Draco braced himself, fearing pain worse than a Cruciatus curse. After all, depending on the vampire's emotional opinion of his prey, or his intention, it would hurt. And after all the animosity they had harbored towards each other, after all those awful taunts Draco had ever spat at the Gryffindor, and especially after dueling so fiercely this evening, the pain should be enough to knock him out. And possibly even addle his brains beyond sanity, all that without Harry having to drain him of his lifeblood.

Instead, something happened that blew all logic from Draco's petrified mind. A moan that was not one of pain escaped his mouth, and he clung to Harry desperately. Pleasure that was beyond any sexual experiences Draco had _ever_ had coursed into his system, leaving him to gasp for air. His eyes turned glassy with need and arousal.

Licking leisurely at the human's cheek, the DayWalker made sure his saliva coated the wound thoroughly, healing it, not wanting his human to be marked by a scar afterwards. Feeling the essence of the fluid that was seeping into the injury and rebuilding the severed skin and tendons, the vampire blew softly over the magically curing wound. He nuzzled the soft skin, reveling in the fact that it was once again flawless. Harry felt the essence of Draco's blood linger in his mouth, making him yearn for more. With slightly parted lips, he caressed the pale skin, drawing even more delirious moans out of his human. He traced the pulse of his lifeblood until he came to the beautiful slender neck, witch arched almost wantonly as he brushed his opened mouth over it. Then he licked tentatively, pressing the flat of his fangs against the source of rhythmus flow. He felt it reverberate into the cavern of his mouth, the minor tremors seeming to take it into the region of his own motionless heart.

Dazedly, Draco clawed at Harry's back, unaware and indifferent of what was being done to him. As long as the feeling never left he would be alright. Never had he felt so complete, so right, whole, completely blissful and _alive_.

His heart was thundering against his ribcage, his breath coming our laboriously, and his body was tingling with passion. "Harry," he managed to breath out, the name leaving his lips like a prayer.

From the moment the name resounded in the night air, Harry snapped out of his rapture, his human self slamming back into consciousness so hard that it knocked the breath out of him. He shied away, shoving Draco -still in a stupor of his own- to the ground. Disgusted and horrified, he stumbled and tripped and fell to the floor in a sheer frenzy to get away. Even when he fell to his knees he kept backing away until he was prevented to do so by the stone walls of the room. He gagged and heaved and arms and hands scratched at his face and skin, as he curled up, wishing for nothing more than all of it to end immediately.

Meanwhile Draco was still laying half-upright on the floor, his upper body propped up his elbows resting behind him. His face was struck, his mouth parted as if it was permanently frozen open and he was unable to close it. Almost in a detached fashion he could only watch how panic seized Harry, causing him to lock up inside of his mind. And he did nothing, he could only watch as if he were paralyzed.

To Draco, the world and the scenes that told the stories of those who inhabited it was being played out before him. Numerous flashes of his life danced before his eyes in rapid succession, but all of them contracted to one point, which seemed to happen over and over again in slow-motion. This moment was a turning-point, and it burned painfully in head like a white-hot spot. _Harry, _it whispered, _Harry._

Lucius came bursting through the door, having teleported right into the hallway beyond. His feet had barely touched the ground before he was already running again, until his artic gray eyes found his son sitting in the middle of the room. From the moment his mind had deciphered what was happing he had come, though he had feared in sheer terror that it might have already been too late. The whole evening his blood-connection with his Liber, Harry, had been severely abused and grated during the training session. He had tried to distance himself, not wanting to become too emotionally involved with Harry. After all, he had no intention of joining the boy's cause for any reason beyond having his revenge. And thusly he had not been able to anticipate this very likely outcome to the duel of two young wizards' who had been trying to gain one other's acknowledgement.

He practically flew into the spacious room, kneeling by his son's side in an almost blur of movement. "Draco!" he spoke loudly, slightly out of breath. The handsome face of the youth turned very slowly towards, blinking rapidly as if he were coming back from very far away. "Draco," he said again, "Are you unharmed?"

Draco started at him blearily, breath caught in his throat. Then he shook his head, sending the blonde locks to whirl around his head. "I am unharmed." He confirmed shakily, one hand going up to tangle in the soft locks of his hair. Hand frozen on the top of his scalp, generous tufts of hair swept back beneath his palm and sticking up between his fingers, Draco a speculative look cresting his eyebrows, "He healed me."

Looking over his shoulder, tracking his son's stare, Lucius was only able to see his Liber's fleeing form disappear into the hallway and out of sight. 

Though it was mid-summer, Draco could not stop the shivers crawling up and down his body, leaving his skin chilled. Not even his cup of cocoa was able to subside it. He could not even begin to fathom why, either, his brain seemed unable to do anything but circle around that one whispered name. From over the table, his mother was watching him with large, worried eyes.

"Draco," she said calmly, entwining her beautiful, fine fingers and resting an equally delicate chin upon them.

After a few moments of silence, he found that he was only able to nod once, somehow feeling that his voice was hiding somewhere. Though any normal person would be, he found wasn't frightened about what had happened. Then his mind paused to think about the last statement, and found the most peculiar thought: he was horrified about what had NOT happened. And for some reason, he was not thinking about Harry biting him. What would have happened, he could not begin to dwell on, that was beyond anything he could ever use common sense to sort it.

"Draco," Narcissa repeated, more firmly now.

Again, he could only look at her, taking in a deep shuddering breath.

"What has he done to you?" she asked again, having lost count of the number of times she had asked that particular question, "You have to tell me, dear, or I won't be able to help you."

His gaze fell down to where his hands were cradling his mug, mustering the strength and logic to answer that question. But how would he be able to answer it, if he didn't know himself what had happened? It felt as if his whole body had received a fatal blow, as if his mind had been pummeled repeatedly and yet he could not help but think about how _good_ it had felt.

"He hasn't harmed me, mother," he said softly, his tenor more hoarse than usual. In the mug, the cocoa rippled due to the tremors in the hands that clenched it, "As a matter of fact, I've never felt better."

* * *

You guys must be so pissed at me for delaying this chapter for what? 2 months? Anyways, know that I'm still out there, writing! 

(I asked the New Year's bunny for reviews…)

Little note: I am aware that silver was not the traditional protective metal, but iron was. I went with the silver because I can't imagine Harry surviving Hogwarts while being virtually surrounded by iron. Every time the poor guy opens a door and touches lets say an iron door handle he gets a rash that will nearly drive him crazy. Or like, armors everywhere in most hallways. So silver it is!

And finally, I really need your help! So Harry will be returning to Hogwarts; now, how would you like to see that happening? Harry undercover as an exchange student or Harry being just who is but with a false cover-story about him not having actually died? Maybe even other ideas? I'm open to everything, if you have an idea, however crazy it may be, let me know!

MortalTransience is awesome! Please check out M.T.'s wonderful stories, they are awesome!


	5. Backfiring Instincts

**Inter Sol Solis et Luna**

**By ****Wihstrum**

**Chapter Five: Backfiring Instincts**

Harry's eyes fluttered in protest against the early morning light that streamed in a rivulet through the curtains stabbed at his retinas. A strangled groan escaped his mouth and he managed to roll weakly to his side, hands moving to clutch at his stomach. Everything seemed to be burning faintly; his whole body was in a pulsating pain that he felt behind his eyes, in his teeth and all the way down to his toes. He felt sick.

A vague sense of panic undulated in the back of his mind; he could not possible come down with the flu or something when he was within a few days' limit of returning to Hogwarts. It did not occur to Harry immediately that Vampires did not get the flu.

Consulting Narcissa or even Lucius about the creeping feeling of queasiness had crossed his mind after a couple of days, but he didn't like to go bother them with minor things like those. Besides, he reckoned they'd be more occupied with Draco's sense of well-being, than his, given the circumstances. After all, it was Harry who'd 'assaulted' their son. He never really had to heart to defend his case, it didn't seem to matter. Malfoy was fine, and that was all what counted. At least he hadn't managed to kill him.

How he wished for Hermione's sensibility or Ron's bracing words now. They'd have him up and off to Hospital Wing before he'd be able to protest. His deep-rooted longing for Hogwarts and his friends grew fiercer with every waking hour, especially knowing that the morning he'd wake up to depart was dawning shorter.

But really, now, this ache was getting worse. Perhaps Lucius' stories about food still providing nutritive components for his dead body were a load of bull-cock. Probably it was not a good idea to eat human meals when you were a magical creature. Or it might have occurred to Lucius what a down-right bad idea it had been to Turn Harry and he was now feeling the effects of his trying to dispose of the young vampire.

Recognizing that he was wallowing in self-pity about some ridiculous stomach-ache, Harry tried to push the sensation that was wrecking havoc in his gut to the back of his mind and forced his body to sit up. He groped around on the nightstand for his spectacles and pushed them up his nose. Something was wrong, he deducted instantly. The world remained one, big blur for him and his nightclothes felt oddly cramped and uncomfortable around his body.

Maybe he was low on sugar; after all, with the tasting of Malfoy's blood and that knowledge still fresh in mind, Harry had been unable to get anything down his throat except for water. Instead he had wandered the grounds like some stray creature, Hedwig his sole companion, rising early and returning late. In short, he'd seen very little of the elder Malfoy's past few days and nothing from Malfoy Junior. Having heard from his Sire that the Slytherin was alright was all he had needed to hear.

Nevertheless, maybe just eating something would prove enough to cure the annoying ache in his belly.

Some old cheese and stale bread was all he could find that proved to be remotely edible and as he stared through bleary eyes at the room in front of him, he forced himself to eat it. Having done so and luckily feeling slightly better, Harry stood up and shuffled to his private bathroom.

It would really help if he could see though, he though to himself as he felt around. What was wrong with his eyes? Did he damage his spectacles?

The last thought had barely left his mind when his head connected sharply and very painfully with a low beam that had never bothered him before. Blaming it on the fact that he was clumsy in his state of poor visibility, Harry's mind forgot to register the fact that he had never walked into it before because he was so short of height.

Standing in front of the mirror, and yawning profusely Harry clenched his stomach in attempt to wring back the pain. As stab of pure agony shot down into the very core of his belly, his spine went rigid in response as white-hot fire scored down it. A cry of pain erupted from his mouth and the whole world reeled. Down he went.

The tiles of the bathroom floor were wonderfully cold against his feverish body. Just when he had groped for enough strength to push himself up on an elbow his stomach gave a lurch to be messily sick all over the place. Lying in his waste Harry could see that there was dark blood between the splotches of bread and chunks of undigested cheese. The floor tile he was staring at was moving in and out of focus.

A prickling sensation somewhere in his head warned him that Lucius was going to teleport into the bathroom. It was useless to try and get up before the Death Eather saw him in this pathetic state, because within a blink of an eye the regal, blonde haired DayWalker stood besides him.

"Potter!" he said urgently.

Harry managed to gaze up in the general direction of his Sire's face when the man tipped him over so he was resting in the curve of a steady arm. Almost as if in a dream Harry's eyes veered down slowly, a peculiar apprehension tightening in his throat.

His nightshirt was sticking to his stomach and colored deep red with blood.

"That's a lot of blood," Harry managed faintly, but he had already lost so much of his of his life fluid and reality was very blurry on the edges.

If Lucius had been pale before, he was positively translucent now.

It just felt like he going through the motions, but not really initiating them himself, when he saw his own hands, which were trembling violently, lifting the drenched cloth and pull it up.

"What the-" he heaved as he gazed at the bizarre phenomenon. Then it gave a twitch under his skin as if it were alive.

Harry finally gave in to genuine panic, "GET IT OUT!"

--

Arms pressed against his belly, almost as if preventing the most recent development in his anatomy to get any worse, Harry sat shivering on the leather sofa. Or, even more likely, he was somehow still nursing the faint hope that he might be able push it back where it had came from.

Narcissa, her beautiful dress now stained with his blood, was trying to get him to drink some cocoa.

He did not quite register any of it, preferring instead to lock himself away in his mind until Dumbledore had arrived. They hadn't even been able to coax him into taking off his nightshirt. The garment now oozed a steady amount of dark blood through Harry's fingers where they where flattened on his stomach. Even the cleaning of his scars, which had somehow burst open in unison, he had refused.

Lucius had his head in the fire that crackled in the marble fireplace with its ornate design. When he pulled his head back, Harry said hoarsely, "The Weasleys and Remus, too."

His Sire shook his head negatively, "They can't do any-"

"Call them!" Harry snarled, feeling his fangs give an angry throb.

"Do it, darling," Narcissa said quietly.

Narrowing his eyes and leveling his wife with a disapproving look, Lucius turned around once again. A few moments later he extracted his head from the flickering fire anew, looking sufficiently disgruntled.

"Try not to get too much ash on the carpet, dear," Narcissa remarked coolly, apparently not very impressed with the dark glare her husband directed at her.

"What's with all the commotion…" a hoarse tenor complained. Draco stood in the doorway rubbing at his eyes, blonde hair still sleep-mussed. It was the first time Harry saw him again in four days.

Narcissa tutted airily, "Never you mind, honey," but her son's jaw had already gone slack in pure horror. Perhaps he looked worse than he'd realized, Harry reasoned absently, hands pushing on his abdomen more urgently.

Then the hearth gave a mighty roar and Dumbledore came twirling out of the fireplace. He barely even spared Lucius a glance and the DayWalker could be seen staring at undisguised abhor at the ancient wizard's back. It seemed his Sire was not going to forgive the elderly man easily for striding into his humble abode without even so much as cringing in fear.

"Harry, m'boy," Dumbledore said in a kind voice that managed to calm some of Harry's nerves. He kneeled down in front of the boy-who-still-lived and a wrinkled old hand came up to touch the bleeding lightening-shaped bolt on his forehead. Harry watched him impassively.

"Get his belongings, he's coming to Hogwarts." He commanded in a booming voice that tolerated no argument.

Of course, that went besides Lucius Malfoy. The man's head snapped around so fast that he must have given himself a whiplash, "What?" he argued, "There is no way I'm letting my Liber out of sight." he ground out in a dangerous tone, blue eyes glinting silver.

Dumbledore looked genuinely inflamed and he seemed to grow in size so that even Lucius took a cowering step back, "This young man is in need of a Healer, Lucius, I'm sure even you must see that. If you want, you are welcome to join us."

Already he was urging Harry to his feet, the latter still with white-knuckled hands on his belly. The flow of blood trickled down his strangely small-sized sleeping trousers. In some small corner of his mind he registered that he had lost too much blood and his instincts had switched to auto-pilot. One foot in front of the other, don't keel over, that were the only basic instructions that were being given too his body.

"What's wrong with him?" someone in a rather tight voice demanded. Draco sported a shade of green and looked fit to gag.

Dumbledore looked his Slytherin student straight in the eye, face contorted as if experiencing some inner-pain, "I don't know, Draco." He admitted quietly, "Come on now, Harry." Limply, the Gryffindor let himself be led to the fireplace, standing on his legs with a sheer effort of will and was consumed by green fire as Dumbledore threw the floo powder in, Hogwarts as destination.

One foot already in the fire, Dumbledore looked over his shoulder at Lucius, who stood mute as if he'd been struck. "Before you follow with the boy's trunk and other belongings, please, contact your Elder. Or any other of your kind that might be able to tell us what is happening to Harry."

Lucius nodded his yes, though resentfully so, having to follow an order of the man he loathed so passionately. But at the moment, fear of the consequences of neglecting his Liber in favor of his own son made him do as he was told. As the tall headmaster of Hogwarts disappearing in a jet of green fire, Lucius snarled at his perplexed family, "Narcissa, get my cloak, Draco get dressed and gather Potter's belongings!"

No one commented on the note of desperation that was not quite concealed behind the bite.

--

The first thing Harry did was groaning and draping and arm over his sore eyes to shield them from the lamp that burned overhead. Besides being besieged by a dizzy sensation that danced around in his head, Harry felt remarkably comfortable and at ease. Propping himself up on an elbow led to the revelation that he was no where other than in Hogwart's Medical Ward.

A curtain had been drawn around his bed, but from behind those he could here anxious and faint voices.

"Is he alright now?" a worried male tenor asked.

The second, female, said; "Can we see him?"

Ron and Hermione, he knew instantly. For the first time in a long while Harry felt himself grinning happily.

"He's awake." A third voice, definitely tinged with contempt aimed at the previous two, drawled.

Lucius.

And suddenly everything came rushing back into his brain with the force of a sledge hammer. Quite forcefully he yanked back the pristine white covers, to find himself dressed only in the white trousers. An involuntary gasp rushed through his parted lips when his green eyes came to rest on the plane of his stomach. Two rows of little spines ran from beneath each pectoral, over his stomach, to finish just above his groin area. He had no idea what they were.

Just as his hand came up to investigate them by touch, Madame Pomfrey called from the other side of the screen, "Mr. Potter? Are you awake? I'm opening the curtain now."

As it pulled back Harry found himself looking at a group of people that were quite possible the ones that had ever really mattered in his life; whether in a positive way or a negative one.

"No more than six visitors at a time!" Madame Pomfrey came busting over briskly as if everything was perfectly normal and the whole Malfoy clan, virtually all the Weasleys and a werewolf were not standing in Hogwart's medical ward.

But it was beyond all expectations that it was Lucius who spoke up first, "Liber, are you alright?" he asked hoarsely.

Harry stared at him as his Sire tried to virtually choke back his little outburst. Malfoys did not do emotional scenes very well and it appeared that the DayWalker was not a little mortified by speaking so openly.

It took quite some effort to remain impassive while all his instincts cried out at him to reach out for this man. Revere, Protect, Obey. These were basic principles his vampire nature longed to fulfill, but it seemed that nothing as of yet had been able to tell Harry's spark of stubborn Gryffindorness to back down.

"I'm quite fine, sir." He managed quietly.

"No more than-" Madame Pomfrey began to repeat in a considerate amount of decibels louder.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at them all, back in the persona of the bumbling old headmaster. "No worries, Poppy, no worries," the ancient wizard said pleasantly. "I think there are quite a few who want to say hello to Harry here."

No sooner or he said that and Harry found himself with a lapful of Hermione and an anxious looking Ron standing by his side.

"Oh Harry." Hermione sobbed against his chest.

"Bloody hell, mate, how do you do it?" Ron asked in a breathless tone.

"Do what?" he replied confusedly.

It was quite a relief to realize that the vampire in him did not jump at the chance of fresh blood, which came in the form of Hermione Granger. Nevertheless he tried to pry her off, not only because she still was brimming with magic, something that appealed to his vampire senses, but also because she was clinging to his naked torso.

"Get yourself over your ears in shite like a magnet for trouble?" Ron said with an air as if it were obvious.

"It's a skill," he ground out as he gave Hermione a consoling pat on the back, "Oodles and oodles of fun, really." The resentment was soaked into every syllable of the word.

His freckled faced friend gave him an apologetic smile and ruffled his black mop of hair bracingly. Next thing Madame Pomfrey was shooing his best friends away and cast a diagnostic spell on him.

"So, what had happened?" Harry asked, peering down on the ribbed lines that traveled over his lower pelvis to disappear under the elastic band of his trousers.

"Oh Harry," the nurse suddenly sobbed and Harry found himself pulled into a warm hug. "I'm so glad to see you… I can't believe what has happened. You're still here. I thought, I thought…" she trailed off in a hiccup.

It dawned on Harry that Madame Pomfrey had been acting her role as brisk nurse quite convincingly, as if it were natural that a young man that was supposed to be dead was carried into her ward, covered in blood and more alive than he should have been.

"Er…" Harry mumbled, embarrassed, patting her on the back awkwardly.

He needn't think of an articulate, nice answer, because Poppy pulled back, dashed a stray tear resolutely from her cheek and left him alone to fetch another potion.

This time it was Remus who took advantage of the situation and crossed over to sit on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Hi." Harry said meekly when Remus smiled brilliantly at him. It seemed his ex-DADA professor was determined to look cheerful, but there was no doubt about the sheer relief that was reflected in the man's eyes. "Close one again, I take it?" he muttered quietly.

Remus leaned forward, his expression serious, all pretense gone at the last statement, "Harry, why have you been refusing the blood?" he asked, boring his amber eyes into the young vampire's. "Do you realize that besides whatever has happened, you were starving? And Lucius had made it a point to assure us that he's given you a dose of blood with the passing of your first full moon."

Shamefaced, Harry glanced at his fingers, which were clasped loosely in his lap, "I couldn't bring myself to-"

"What you did was dangerous," Remus pressed, giving Harry a twang of regret, "You did not only endanger yourself, but also others. What if you wouldn't have been able to suppress your instincts? How have you managed that in the first place?"

Tying to look anywhere but at his older friend, he admitted, "I had a supply of Dreamless Potion left in my trunk… I flushed the blood down the toilet and-"

"And what?" Remus said agitatedly.

"Drank all the potion I had." He finished in barely louder a whisper.

Remus stared at him in shock. Swallowing profusely he uttered angrily, "Have you any idea what that could have done to you? I can't believe you were that stupid. You can't deny the primal instincts of your vampire nature. This is not something that will pass with careful-"

"I know that, dammit!" Harry snarled at him, tears suddenly threatening to spill. He fought to keep them back; there was no way he was going to cry in front of everybody that was standing in the ward. "Don't you think I know that!" he repeated in a strangled voice.

The cruel injustice cut Harry deep, he did not want to survive on the lifeblood of other living creatures, and it went against everything he'd ever stood for. It despaired him to accept the fact that this would _never_ go away, that there was no solution.

Remus wrapped him in a one-armed hug, "Harry, trust me, I –we- will do anything in our power to bring you through this. But in the meantime you've got to keep yourself out of trouble-"

"Fat chance." Draco commented on his way past.

"-until we find out what we can do to ensure not only your safety, but also that of others." Remus finished, rolling his eyes at his ex-student's antics.

Harry found the corner of his mouth quirk up at that one, but when he wanted to look Draco in the eye, another voice and an entirely unfamiliar and spoke in wonder, "A werewolf and a vampire being civil? It seems I haven't seen the end of wonders yet."

The man that stepped up was tall and had a mane of black hair that hung in wild locks past his broad shoulders. When Harry looked at his handsome face he gazed into a pair of the clearest and most light blue eyes he had ever seen, rimmed by as circle of a darker hue and which seemed to look right into the very core of his soul. He wore plain clothes, a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt, and from out of the collar the pattern of a tribal tattoo came curling up, ending just on his jaw line.

The DayWalker was breathtakingly attractive.

Harry could not even begin to phantom why his mind had produced that last statement. It might just be after starving himself of blood, he decided. He was hallucinating. Nevertheless he shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide the evidence of his real thoughts.

As he failed to reply, still staring in awe at what appeared to be kin of his, Remus did it for him, "Harry and I have always been friends, his becoming a DayWalker will not change that." He said pointedly.

"I see," the other said thoughtfully.

"And why, if I may ask, if you are a vampire, have you not ripped me to ribbons already? It seems Lucius has been struggling with those urges from the moment of my arrival." he said, surprisingly unbothered by the danger he brought upon himself. If he was not afraid of this mysterious interloper, he certainly should be of Lucius, for the vampire looked fit to combust on the spot.

It was not that vampires and werewolves were natural enemies, but it was nevertheless known that it would be unwise to keep two of each species in a room at the same time. Vampires regarded lycanthropes as a lesser species, in the hierarchy of intelligent magical creatures they were level almost with animals because of their primal urges during each full moon. Considering them 'unrefined' mostly showed in their attitude, if anything, they considered them slave-material.

"Ah," the dark haired man said, "because I'm both kin of yours and young Harry Potter here. Pleased to meet you, by the way, my name is Seth." He greeted, offering his hand.

"That's impossible," Lupin countered, looking quite sure of himself, as he shook the tall man's hand "Lycanthropy and vampirism are also mutually exclusive. Nobody can survive both curses, the blood congeals and some organs fail."

"Yeah well, like Harry here, I've always had a knack for defying the laws of nature" Seth said with a wry grin; "I am the only person who has survived both the curse of lycanthropy and the bite of a vampire. Quite possibly because it was the Elder, my mate, who Turned me." He tried to explain the perplexed lycanthrope.

"That is quite enough information, _Ganad_." Lucius sneered viciously at him from where he was standing, "It's the Elder's task to inform my Liber, and last time I checked you were _definitely_ not the Elder."

"Malfoy," Seth returned in a tone that caused Harry to grin broadly; it was exactly the same one he used to address Draco, "It might not have occurred to you that my mate entrusted me with this 'task' you speak of. It's about time the lad knows what he'll be facing."

Harry found himself nodding his head vigorously at Seth's words. He found himself liking the guy more with each passing second.

"It is tradition, a ritual that has been hailed for generation after generation of DayWalkers. I don't care whether you simply lack the respect or you're think you're above us and therefore not bound to any rules because you're the Elder's mate. In the end you are still Hawke's Liber." Lucius said in a very strained, but otherwise emotionless voice, but he finished with a definite note of smugness implied on the end.

Blue eyes flashed not silver but canine yellow in ire, and positively carnivorous fangs lengthened past his full bottom lip, looking dangerous, "Step down, Lucius," he growled, "I will not hear you question my mate's judgment. And if you doubt my orders you may contact J-" Seth seemed to catch himself, "Hawke yourself. But I can promise you that our Sire won't be happy with you stumbling in and interrupting the process of the negotiations." Having said that, he shook his head in rather dog-like fashion, letting his vampiric guise slip away.

"Sorry about that," he apologized with a weary sigh. Turning to Harry with a genuine curious expression he asked, "How can you _stand_ to live with him?"

"That is quite enough excitement already, everybody that has no business here may leave right away," Poppy said imperiously, "That means you too, Mr. Malfoy." she added, looking at the intimidating figure of Harry's Sire.

"There is no way I'm leaving my Liber alone with that filthy half-breed!" he hissed all pretense of aloofness thrown in the wind.

Seth was pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained frown cresting his dark brows, "Could you just give it a rest, why do I have to fight you every occasion we see each other? And you're messing up my Sight with all those waves of hatred you're giving off." His voice had the gravelly quality that suggests fatigue mixed with an unhealthy dose of frustration.

"I will make sure that Mr. Seth's 'furry little problem' will not affect young Harry, here," Dumbledore said kindly.

Lucius glared at him in a fashion that clearly suggested that he'd rather take care of Seth's 'furry little problem' himself, but let himself be led away by his wife, all the while peering threateningly over his shoulder at half-lycanthrope.

"That's that," Seth said with a deep sigh, "That man's insufferable."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "He sure does his best."

The DayWalker grinned at him, "You can say that again. He never quite forgave me for being lycanthropic and surviving the Turning… ah well, some things never change. If you'd stand up, Harry, so I can have a look at your newest anatomic addition."

Reluctantly, Harry slipped out of his bed to stand bare-chested in front of Seth.

The latter's eyebrows winged up in amazement to disappear under his long, shaggy fringe that covered the better upper half of his face. "Can't say I've ever seen that before… If you'd mind telling me what's been going on? I'm badly informed on your case; Lucius guards you from me most jealously. Probably thinks I'm bad influence or something with my disregard for 'the old ways' and my evil werewolf-vibes that might rub off on you."

Harry chuckled at the other's easy going manner as if everything that was going on was perfectly normal. At least he was not making Harry feel as 'the freak-case' once again.

After Harry had recounted everything up until the moment he had promptly passed out in Dumbledore's office, Seth commented "You've been fortunate that you've been in the care of a capable MediWitch, I don't think you would have pulled through other wise…"

"As we all know, our Harry has a knack for surviving." Madame Pomfrey remarked dryly.

"Yes," Seth murmured, peering at Harry speculatively, "but tempting fate is a dangerous game. Don't fight your Thirst, Harry. I don't want you to drink blood everyday, but at least you should at Full Moon… next time your vampire might not let himself be drugged again."

Frowning at the stone tiles under his feet, Harry nodded half-heartedly.

"Atta boy." Seth said with a grin, patting him on the head teasingly.

After that he and Pomfrey conversed in silence, going over Harry's extensive medical file she'd kept from him during his Hogwarts career. One forth alone was a _very_ recent report on his short 'life' as a DayWalker. Meanwhile Seth told Harry to get dressed, despite Pomfrey's protest that he ought to stay inside until they knew what was happening to him.

Rubbing his chin in an introspective manner, Seth jerked his head at Harry in a wordless query to follow him. Exiting the hospital wing, they walked into the hallway beyond where they found Ron and Hermione standing anxiously side by side.

"They can come, if you want Harry. It's your own choice, but it might get a bit personal." Seth told him.

Harry hesitated, 'a bit personal'. What was personal? The whole Voldemort-DayWalker-Lucius thing? Or something else entirely? Seth was being a bit vague there. Ron's blue eyes were gazing at him in badly suppressed wonder; Hermione even had gone as far as gaping at him slack-jawed. They should know, he decided. Everything they had done together and there were barely any secrets between them.

"They can come." He said, trading a smile with his friends.

Seth nodded, his expression solemn.

The four of them together walked out to the rolling landscape that sprawled around Hogwarts Castle. To Harry, it was good to feel the late-summer sun warming his face; it seemed that after a Full Moon the strain of daylight lessened for a short period.

The Gryffindor trio followed obediently after the DayWalker, who led them in silent contemplation to the bank of the lake. There, for a moment he gazed out over its surface where, in the middle, the giant squid splashed around lazily. Then he turned around.

"The facts," Seth said, spreading his palms outward, "Are that over the course of a few days you've grown at least six inches and that your myopia is improving."

Automatically Harry's hand went to his nose, for the first time realizing he'd been walking around without glasses. All of a sudden some things made sense, "That's why I bumped my head against that beam…and why I had a headache with my glasses…" he wondered, trying to gage Seth's mood, "What's happening to me?"

Seth grimaced; as if he could he himself could still not quite determine whether he was going to deliver some good news or bad news.

"I'm going to be straightforward, Harry," Seth said in a calm voice, "You are mutating. It seems your sheer magical power surpasses the natural boundaries so far that your body is evolving."

For a moment Harry was torn between bursting out in derisive laughter, but instead he could hear himself heaving a trembling breath, "Why?"

"To survive," Seth said, "It might have never happened if you hadn't starved yourself of blood. Quite remarkable though, keeping yourself from the Thirst during a Full Moon, but I'm sorry to say very foolish, too. Your instincts reacted against the rejection of blood and spontaneously mutated. That's why you've grown, that's why your eyesight is improving steadily, so you'd become a better hunter."

"What?" Harry almost lost it at that moment, and his voice caught at the end of the word.

The complete irony was that because of his not drinking blood, to be, in fact not the vampire he had become had backfired. Instead his body was mutating to be a better one. Brining a hand to his forehead, Harry resisted the urge to scream out in frustration.

"That is not all, is it?" Hermione asked.

Harry did not want to look up; he did not want to see the look on Seth's face.

"True," Seth said softly, "I still do not know what's happened with Harry's stomach…"

"You don't-" Ron started to protest, and Harry was glad he did because he was at loss for words.

Seth held up a hand, "But I can find out. If-" he interjected, "if you'd allow me tap into your aura and manipulate your body. That way I can find out what you've grown on your stomach without doing perhaps even more damage."

"Tap into his aura?" Hermione said incredulously, "But that can be dangerous!"

"I can't be sure if I don't do it," Seth told her flatly, "I have a vague idea what it might be, but I can't be sure if I don't do this. Besides this is my DayWalker-talent, as Empath, I daresay that I'm better at it than those so-called 'mind-readers' or whatever they pass themselves in for nowadays. If he doesn't fight it, it won't even cause him discomfort." Seth assured them "So, what do you think?" he asked, turning fully to Harry now.

"Just get it over with, I don't want to walk around with something on my stomach without knowing what it is."

"Relax," Seth rumbled, after he'd conjured a chair for himself to sit on, "Try not to fight it, I'll do my best to be quick about it."

Trying to calm his frazzled nerves, Harry allowed his eyes to slip shut. Almost immediately he felt an alien probing at the edges of his awareness. His vampire defenses flared in response and he was aware of his fangs shredding his lower lip quite painfully when they lengthened in a flash. Recoiling and automatically bolstering his mental shields, Harry instinctively fought the intrusion. The touch lightened, and wrapped in an almost soothing and protective manner around his mind, as if putting a dampening blanket on the ire vampire within him. After that it went quickly. Something skated over his skin, or maybe just right under it, down once, then up again. It paused very briefly at his stomach, pooling there like warm liquid. Then it stopped.

Harry opened his eyes in time to see Seth drag his lower arm over his bleeding nose. His eyes had gone bright yellow instead of silver and his fangs looked absolutely carnivorous.

Then Seth seemed to collect himself, smiling wryly at the younger vampire, "Don't look so shocked, Harry. It's not quite as awful as it looks, the bleeding is a normal reaction." the fangs withdrew and his irises flecked back with shards of blue.

"And?" he asked quietly, already dreading the answer that was coming. Meanwhile the other vampire let his chair disappear with a soft pop.

Seth peered at him for a moment and then asked for him to lift his sweater. Hunching down to scrutinize his abdomen, the half-lycanthrope seemed to hold his breath. In the broad daylight, the ridged lines looked even more so pronounced than they had in the hospital wing. Ron and Hermione were both holding their breath.

With a steady and careful hand, Seth touched a fingertip to the ribbed lines.

Leaping away from the other at the sudden flood of disturbing sensations that blurred the rational part of his brain, Harry flinched almost violently away.

"Still hurts," he explained hastily, "Sorry."

But Seth leveled him with a flat look that clearly told Harry he didn't believe a word. And the Gryffindor _had_ lied, because it had not hurt at all, no, the spines were an erogenous zone.

Willing the scarlet flush away from his cheeks, Harry forced himself to look at his elder. This was just too embarrassing, having a spike of pure arousal at the touch of another man who could pick up his every feeling. "So, what are they?" he asked in a small voice.

"I think we should… walk. Without your friends, if you don't mind." Seth was wearing a very peculiar expression.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly at that, because he did not want to discuss 'it' and 'this' in front of his friends. Seth already went ahead.

"Look, guys, just wait here for a moment, I'll be right back." Harry told them.

Hermione was knitting her brows, "I don't like this one bit, Harry. During this whole DayWalker business we have been around, without really having been _with_ you. We keep getting these newsflashes that they're turning your whole world upside-down, but we aren't allowed to be there for you. We can hardly even contribute to these conversations, because we can't keep up anymore. We're just watching…and we…I –I feel so helpless…"

Ron was nodding fervently, his face tight.

"Guys," Harry said shakily, "its okay. I'm having trouble keeping up, too. But if Dumbledore can figure out how to keep me at school without causing any trouble, we'll have time together. But that guy right there knows what's happening, and I need to know this. Just give me some room to get comfortable with the whole thing myself."

"Yeah, and then you'll probably decide it's 'too great a risk' for us to be your friends and you'll push us away again," Ron growled bitterly, "Well, for your information, Potter, that ship ain't sailing this time."

Harry had trouble deciding whether to yell at Ron or be grateful for his loyalty. "You will just have to trust me, I_ will_ tell you, after I get to terms with it myself." He said, trying to school his features.

Still looking reluctant to let him go, Hermione swallowed, "Let us be there for you this time, Harry. Don't go and try to figure this one out yourself." It sounded more of a plea than a request.

"Please, mate." Ron added.

"Don't worry," he told them firmly, "I'm not going to blunder as I did with the Prophecy."

"You'd better keep your word, Potter, or, so help me, I will…" Hermione grumbled, balling a small fist at him semi-seriously.

"Lecture me?" Harry interjected, "Spare me, Hermione, please." He sniggered as she whacked him on the shoulder.

"You really did grow, I still couldn't believe my eyes, but…" the female Gryffindor said, staring up at him in surprise. "I used to be able to cuff you over your head but…"

Being malnourished for eleven years had had lasting evidence with Harry having been a mere five foot four inches, rendering him even smaller than Hermione. But, as of now, that was apparently in the past. As tall as Ron he was now, give or take a little.

With a crooked grin, Harry spun around and jogged after Seth, who'd traveled quite a distance by now. He fell into stride next to him and took note that he was as tall as the other. This would take time getting used to, because as of now all the people he categorized as 'tall' were likely of the same height as him.

"Are you still a virgin, Harry?" Seth asked bluntly.

Within two seconds Harry had flushed such a shade of scarlet that it would rival his Quiddich robes, "What has that got to do with-"

"Everything, Harry, trust me." Seth said over the rest of his rushed sentence. He looked uncomfortable, his cheeks pink themselves.

Harry did not answer for a while, brains seriously working on an eloquent response. In the end, all he could manage was a small, choked, "Yes."

"Yes, you are still a virgin, or yes, you've had sex?" Seth asked pointedly. He appeared to be amusing himself at this point.

Glaring at Seth in a very dastardly manner, Harry ground out from between gritted teeth, "Yes, I'm still a virgin."

Seth simply nodded, probably having picked up the answer easily from Harry's fidgety manner of going about the subject. "Then, I'm afraid, the next few months will be rather overwhelming for you…" he said ponderously.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded, but could not quite get his vocal cords to oblige him his voice squeaked funnily at the end of his question.

Halting his pace, Seth turned to look him deliberately in the eye; emerald green clashed with sage blue. In a rush, Harry felt pure, unbridled lust tighten in his stomach. The feeling was so overpowering that it frightened Harry to no end.

Seth looked away, an almost pained expression on his face, "We need to teach you how to turn of that Charm…" he said hoarsely, more to himself than to Harry.

Harry was still flabbergasted. "What-what-wha?"

Still carefully avoiding his eyes, Seth started to explain, "Vampires are very sexual creatures. They can bespell a person by secreting large amounts of what can be compared to pheromones. Usually this is exercised consciously, in order to attract prey. But, in our case, as DayWalkers, it is also a way of attracting potential mates. Usually this occurs when 'displaying' for an object of interest, in order to capture the attention of potential suitors." Seth faltered when he accidentally glanced at the Gryffindor, but seemed to gather himself quite easily, "Which is what you are doing now."

"Doing what?" Harry asked, swallowing thickly. The palms of his hands had gone clammy.

"Displaying; trying to work your 'Charm' on me. It seems your vampire sees me as a potential mate." Seth said lightly, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Harry was well on his way to mortified. "But I'm not-I'm not… you're not…" This time he didn't even seem to be able to swallow, his throat was as dry as parchment, "But you're a…guy… and…"

"Compatibility does not always ordain an individual of the opposite sex," Seth told him in a much gentler tone when he saw what hard a time Harry was having digesting this information, "It's more an attraction based on magical power."

Harry was not ready for this. The rational part of his mind failed him completely, he just couldn't handle this. He might be able to stand up to Voldemort six times, keep sane even after seeing someone murdered at the age of fourteen, deal with the emotional shock of losing Sirius, die himself, and _still_ be walking around to tell the tale, but as far as it went with sexual maturity he was completely clueless. Walking down that path was the same as going blind in the dark, his sexual experience had rusted stuck after what happened with Cho; a very wet and clumsy kiss.

Most of his year mates had gone through their share of fumbling, if not simply all the way. Even Neville was ahead of him –and _that_ was saying something. While every evening the Astronomy tower was occupied with amorous witches and wizards and deserted, dusty hallways were the place to be, Harry was learning how to survive. Falling in love and having sex had not been exactly on his mind, only the knowledge that he must put an end to Voldemort's tyranny.

"Magical power?" he said and closed his eyes as if that would help. He just needed to be strong a little longer; he refused to crumble to an insane mess in front of this man.

Seth seemed impressed that he was still holding out, "Vampires are attracted to things of power, the more powerful the subject the stronger the pull will be."

"Fuck!" Harry spat out in disgust, "Please do not tell me that… Dumbledore…" he could not finish the train of thought.

Letting out what sounded like a relieved bark of laughter, his companion said, "NO! Gods, no. Thank Merlin for that. No, of course your instinct will go for potential mates who are around the prime of their life; which should be around your age and up to thirty. It all kind of works like an animal thing really." He gave a wry look.

"But you keep saying 'potential mates'" Harry mentioned slowly, "I thought there was only one?"

"Well, that's where it all gets difficult," Seth began in a somewhat resigned manner.

Harry snorted, "Oh, wonderful, more shite to deal with, why not…"

"I guess you could say it's like finding the solution to a problem," Seth went on, ignoring the other's cynical remark, "to some problems there are multiple solutions, one more effective than the other, but there is only one perfect solution. And, there may be situations where another solution will suffice instead of that perfect one… but it's not the same, though it might work. Other may seem as the correct one in a certain situation, but may falter and blow up right in your face after a period of time." He paused and smiled wryly, "You see what I'm saying?"

"I think so… there's one true mate. One only, but there might be a suitable…replacement." He recapitulated, struggling over the last word when it came out sounding so crude.

"Exactly." Seth confirmed.

Harry was shaking his head in dismay, "Then how will I _ever _know whether I've found the right one?"

A very particular, if not dreamy look spread over the werewolf's masculine features. "There's a sort of myth that's been passed down from vampire to vampire…" he trailed off, eyes glazing.

"What?" Harry pressed, curious.

"Well," Seth murmured, "It's told that when you've found your true mate, your _soul mate_, and you… _unite_, then the vampire would, for a moment, feel his heart beat again."

Harry forgot to breathe, only one clear thought kept ringing in his head loud and clear, like a bright torch of hope: 'I would do anything to feel that again. My heart.'

"Is it true?" He didn't care his voice had died down to a mere whisper.

Seth smiled. A wonderful, warm smile that transformed his face into a stunning masterpiece.

Harry sucked in a trembling breath.

"Now that you know this, there only one thing left I need to tell you…" Seth spoke, his voice firm and neutral again.

This was about the things on his stomach, Harry knew. He had no idea what to expect from that, but really now, could things become anymore complicated than this?

"It seems that you are now the only known vampire who can reproduce _naturally_." Seth tried to explain, "And it seems you also would be able to, contraceptive charms or not, impregnate everything." The last bit came rushed out so fast even Seth was stumbling over his syllables.

It seemed they could.

It wasn't really funny, but Harry felt like laughing anyway. The hysterical kind of laughter, not the amused kind. Then he suddenly choked as the second part of the information sunk in, "'Impregnate…everything'?" the world began reeling, "Oh God."

"There's a very slight chance that you could trigger a partial gender change… if your mate would happen to be a male." Seth tried to sound calm.

"Partial gender change as in...?" Harry began to get angry.

"As in hermaphrodite. Very slight, but it is possible."

"You mean I could knock a guy op?" Harry replied, his voice rising before he dragged his temper back into check.

"If you put it that way, yes." Seth said.

"Please tell me this isn't happening…" Harry said in a resigned tone as he bowed his head into his hands and moaned miserably.

In two month time he'd become a vampire able to survive in daylight, in need of a mate that could or not be ah another bloke. If he failed to find this 'mate' he quite probably go insane and go berserk, or die from shock. Plus that he could risk getting just about literally _everyone_ pregnant. That was not mentioning that his Sire was a Death Eater who had more than once attempted to kill him or his friends.

"Please say this is all just some horrible joke, or a bad dream, or whatever…"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Seth said sympathetically, "If it helps, I can kind of imagine what you're going through. My becoming a vampire was one big mess of things that should but couldn't." he placed a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder and nudged him down to sit in the grass.

"Let's sit down," the DayWalker told him, "This might take a while to come to terms with."

Miserable, Harry did, sinking through his legs as if they'd suddenly gone boneless. Seth sat down next to him.

"Tell me about it…" Harry asked after a while. His voice was strained, "What happened with you and… Hawke."

Seth dragged his fingers through his thick mane of dark hair, "I was young when I'd received the mark of lycanthropy. Fifteen or sixteen maybe, but despite the prejudges the world has towards my kind; I managed to get along quite fine. That wasn't until I was twenty-five that my life really flew up the shit crack. I was professional Quiddich Beater back then. I hung back after the match, talking to a member of the other team I'd went to school with. It was so sudden, because suddenly there it was. Hawke was just…there. Now, werewolves, too, have something like a mate. Not in such a devastating manner as a vampire experiences, but when you see the one, you're fixed. Chances that something like that happens are slim though. Most werewolves go through life 'happily' without ever coming in contact with such a person."

"The Elder was your lycanthrope mate?" Harry asked.

His companion nodded, "Humans can have a soul mate, too, but it's more profound when you're a magical creature. Then your instinct takes over. Anyway, you understand that our bond was forbidden. If our blood so much as mingled it could go horribly wrong. Hawke was a vampire, and then not even an ordinary one, and I was a lycanthrope. We both tried so badly to ignore it, deny it. We fought and bickered, even detested one other. Nearly even went as far as almost hating each other. Then, of course you could say that the line between love and hate is very thin indeed."

Harry gazed at him, his system settling down a bit with his attention focused on the story. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, something…familiar was stirring.

"Our attitude towards it caused the need for the other only to increase exponentially. We just broke. Instinct took over. It lasted three days…"

"What lasted three- oh. OH!" Harry's eyes bulged.

"Don't ask," Seth said with a hearty laugh, "To make a long story short: we survived. The last day, I let Hawke Turn me. My mate drank my lycanthropic-infected blood, and I died in order to live on, so we could stay together. Somehow, despite the laws of nature, our blood evolved and adapted. Hawke only got a few new, odd habits, while I became both a werewolf and a DayWalker."

Harry considered this for a moment, plucking at the grass that grew lushly around them, "Weren't you afraid… that you wouldn't 'wake up' again. Or that something would go wrong?"

"I don't think either of us was thinking very rational at that point. It was only _us_. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, this was how it supposed to be, or not at all. If you're dealing with the true mate things do go that far." Seth told him earnestly.

The two of them looked each other in the eye. And immediately regretted it.

Seth was biting his lip, "You really need to turn down the Charm, Harry."

Above them, a thunder rumbled in the thick clouds and a lightening snaked over the skies in the far distance.

Harry groaned and stood up. It was going to be an uncomfortable couple of months. "How do I 'turn it down'? I don't even know what I'm doing!"

There was a slight tingling sensation somewhere in his brain, which resulted in a more relaxed feeling in his stomach, as if the blunt spines had been wound up to tightly and were suddenly released. Seth had touched him very briefly with his Empathic Abilities, because he was again scrubbing at a thick rivulet of blood that rolled lazily out of his nose.

"I've tried to make you aware of the mental link, with practice you might learn how to control it, but the Charm usually comes to a vampire with practice. You just seem to walk around with it wide open, which would complicate things because you are magically terrible strong. You even manage to get at me, though I have a mate." Seth said with a lopsided grin.

Harry was not sure how to react to that. The vampire in him was terribly smug while the human in him was crying out in undignified tones that Seth was a bloody guy.

Right then, thick fat drops of chill rain started to splatter down on them. As one the two DayWalkers rose and started in a hurried tempo back towards where Ron ad Hermione had been faithfully waiting all that time.

Deep inside Harry felt the urge to stay outside, especially when a vicious fork of lightning lanced down over the lake and thunder shook the grounds. "Why do I-" he started to say.

Seth was apparently experiencing the same thing, "Magical creatures, especially vampires, are attracted to raw power. It's the same mechanism that's working like with the displaying. Our powers tend to increase slightly, too. Quite a curious sensation, nay?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Somehow he thought he could feel the storm in the core of his being. It was a powerful sense of being one with his surroundings.

They were joined by Ron and Hermione on their way back, the four of them breaking in a full out sprint when the heavens seemed to tear apart and a torrent of water crashed down upon them. Despite all Harry was laughing, he felt wonderful. The other's nearly fled into the castle, but Harry stayed outside, in front of the flat broad steps.

Spreading his arms wide, and tilting his head towards the raging skies, Harry submitted. His fangs didn't seem as alien as they otherwise did when they lengthened. Turning on the spot in slow circles, Harry lost himself to the elements of nature.

From one of the towers Lucius gazed down on the calmly spinning silhouette of his Liber. His eyesight, keener than any other human's, could make out the look of pure bliss on Harry's face. The eyes were still their tantalizing green, even though his fangs were out. At the moment, Harry was one with his vampire self.

* * *

OMG! I UPDATED! 

Anyway, it took me long enough to write this chapter. I've been stuck on a writer's block for this story, not quite sure how the handle to upcoming chapters. But brainstorming with my wonderful friend Kuro Kogatana about ISSEL helped loads to get this all going again. I had not planned this chapter. I had not planned Harry's 'developments". I had not planned Seth's appearance so soon. But it works much better than what I had in mind.

THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE MPREG!

This chapter has not been beta-ed.

I really, really hope you did enjoy this chapter. Despite it being more transitory. It's an in-between chapter, but very necessary and important on its own.

Now things will start rolling!

Next chapter: Harry 'returns' to Hogwarts. (I know he's already there, but I mean like school again.)

REVIEW!


	6. Enter the Slayer

**Inter Sol Solis et Luna**

**By Wihstrum**

**Chapter Six: Enter the Slayer**

No matter how dire the times, no matter that the whole world of magic and wizardry had caught in an endless loop of despondency, no matter that they were all actually waiting for impending doom led by the tyranny of the Dark Lord, Hogwarts was still an isle amongst the merciless waves of adversity that continued to crash down upon their society. Despite what one would have thought, Hogwarts was once again the house of _almost_ two hundred students for the better part of a year. A little less than last one, but it was remarkable that most of them had returned, especially after the security breach before summer. Then again, Hogwarts had been confirmed to be even more safe than the ministry as of lately. Though still going about its usual routine –school, quiddich, exams- Hogwarts had gained a second function, that of a fortress to guard the new generation of young wizards and witches.

The impressive forms of aurors where found patrolling every floor, and guarding each entrance were another. That was the most the ministry could spare. The magical wards had been multiplied by three in strength –no insect would even be lucky enough to come through undetected. The fortifications stretched its powerful walls all the way to Hogsmeade, even if visits this year were improbable.

Draco Malfoy found himself leaning heavily on a fist, elbow balanced on the table, staring into nothingness. Next to him was Blaise, on his other side Pansy, each of them consuming their dinner in relative silence. The atmosphere was sullen, and more than one student was crying softly. Relatives lost, friends murdered, homes burned down, or just plain scared. Terrified because somewhere out there _he _was waiting, and because this year there was one presence absent from the Welcome Feast. A presence that, while being the center of spite and ridicule more than once, had always meant there was still hope.

The Chosen One.

The Child of the Prophecy.

The Boy-who-lived.

Bloody friggin' Harry Potter.

Draco snorted softly; if they only knew, the poor bastards. His eyes traveled the distance to the staff table; Headmaster Dumbledore was helping himself to great spoonfuls jelly. The old wizard had not said much as of yet, waiting until after the feast to give his proper speech. Probably to let ruddy Potter make a _G_rand _E_ntrance.

Merlin, Draco was pissed.

He had to wait for the bloody old fool to give his speech, announce something he'd been aware of _all summer _and act surprised. Which was torture because he couldn't even _complain_ to his friends, let alone verbally abuse the sodding Gryffindor.

The Order of the Phoenix had come up with a whole cover-up story to explain the fact that Potter was still there. They'd even gone as far as give him his magical signature again –fake, of course, because dead people couldn't be tracked. It was a combination of the very faintly lingering magical residue on personal items of Potter, including his Firebolt, his wand, spectacles and even his owl, Hedwig. If some nosy wizard or witch on the ministry was suspicious enough to try and decode the new signature, the Order was going to have to do _a lot_ of explaining.

But, of course, Draco was not supposed to know that, or at least act like he didn't. Draco thought that the Order was taking a big risk counting on the fact that nobody besides them (and the Malfoys) knew of what had happened on the twenty-fourth of June, nor his very close and personal involvement in the matter. That was relying heavily on the fact that there were supposedly no Death Eater spies amongst the students, or teachers for that matter. Aurors had examined each and every one of them, even going through their personal belongings: to great embarrassment of many. No dark marks had been found – bar Severus Snape, but students had not witnessed that of course, nor any dark artifacts or any other kind of suspicious dark activity.

Still, the risk was great, and the stakes delicate. Especially considering that there were students like Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson who were not likely to be fooled easily. Draco wondered how long it would take before the kneazle was out of the bag. Though he very much wanted the proverbial dung to hit the fan and cover Potter in it, he prayed that for once he would 'stay out of trouble', however unlikely. Because this time, if the dung were to hit the fan, Draco would be sharing the spray. Not only that, but his father would be receiving the biggest splatter.

If it came out that there was a magical creature, more powerful than the average wizard, of the species of lamia and able to walk in daylight… Draco didn't know what then, and he did not want to find out.

"I do hope that's a new teacher of ours," said Pansy, causing Draco to snap out of his train of doom scenarios, "He sure is a looker." She was holding up a spoon between her thumb and index finger, squinting at her distorted reflection and patting at her bob of hair, turning her head this way and that.

"I reckon he's our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Blaise responded to that, slicing off a neat morsel of his apple pie with his fork.

Draco looked in the directing Pansy kept throwing sideway glances; they were sitting at the very start of the table, close to where the staff sat. There, lounging next to Severus Snape was a tall, black-haired man. He was broad-shouldered, swathed in a long, dark cape and with piercing eyes that were of indeterminable color, and –Draco found- suffered from a dangerous-level of Lockhart-ness.

He had seen the man before and was informed that he was, indeed their new DADA-teacher. What Draco did know for very sure was that the _only_ reason the man was here was because Mad-eye Moody had insisted on the 'appropriate measurements should Potter get out of hand'. Because Le Cavaliér was a renowned Slayer. A Vampire Slayer.

The pompous man was, evidentially, not aware that Potter was one. He was merely under the impression that he was such a venerated persona in the wizarding society, that he was granting the poor students a great honor.

"So, indulge me, Draco darling, how was your vacation? I hardly heard anything from you." Pansy asked airily, putting her spoon down and looking at her blonde friend enquiringly, "Or should I think you were trying to avoid me?"

"How typically female, of you, Pansy," Draco said smugly, and added with a girlish falsetto, "Why didn't you write me, or visit me, are you ignoring me? You better not be ignoring me because I so totally owled you one day and-"

Pansy cuffed him against the back of his head, sending blonde locks disarray, "I was just being concerned, or is that against Slytherin law?"

Looking up thoughtfully from his plate, Blaise mused, "I should think it is, Pansy. I guess that's minus one on the Slytherin-scale. Again. First the muggle movies, now mushy emotions…" he tsk-ed, shaking his head remorsefully.

Draco nodded, face gone morbidly serious, "The Hat should have sorted you into Hufflepuff, you disgrace us all."

Pansy bristled, face going stony. Never insult a Slytherin of Hufflepuff-ish tendencies. It was like poking a dozing dragon with a stick –very dangerous and very stupid.

"Aw, Panse," the Seeker sniggered, before she could explode on him, throwing an arm around her and giving her a sound kiss on the cheek, "You know I love you, despite your deep, dark secret."

"You'd better," she simpered with a brow that was furrowed in annoyance, contradicting the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth, "If I'm going down I'm taking you two with me."

"Hear, hear!" Blaise said, and the three of them raised their glasses of pumpkin juice and toasted on that. Just as they connected with a clear clink, Dumbledore rose up, and simultaneous with the smooth movement the already subdued talk died away entirely.

"Welcome back again, for another year of magical education!" his voice boomed into the silence, spreading his arms widely.

"There we go again." Blaise muttered under his breath, "I wonder how long he's going to harp about Potter this time," he raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to convey curiosity and boredom at the same time.

Draco kept his face carefully neutral as he gave a shrug.

"There isn't much to say now that the Chosen One has bitten the dust," Pansy commented absently.

Draco took a great gulp from his pumpkin juice, as if trying to drown that memory that Potter bit the dust while saving his life.

"…Our caretaker, Mr. Filch lets us know that there are several penalties on any joke item purchased at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and that any such objects will be confiscated upon detection.

Traditionally, Quiddich trails are due the second week of our academic year, and those who wish to partake should give in their names to their Heads of House.

Then, I am very pleased to tell you that bravely taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts is Mr. Cavaliér. We welcome him as the newest member of our staff."

"Cavaliér?" Draco heard a fourth-year Ravenclaw gasp.

The name ran as a shiver through the student body, as people wondered whether it was _the _Cavaliér.

"Cavaliér…" Blaise echoed, brushing a knuckle against his full lips, "Isn't he a Slayer?"

"He's got an award for Special Services to the Ministry of Magic." Theodore Nott supplied in his ever monotone voice.

Dumbledore coughed into his fist, trying to regain the attention, which had temporarily evaporated in a whir whispered conversation.

Le Cavaliér had rose like a great dark shadow, doing his best to look enigmatic and dangerously attractive, while at the same time trying to look modest. And somehow he managed to pull it off, too, if the adoration that beamed out of the eyes of most young witches was anything to go by.

Blaise shot Draco a wry look, giving a barely perceptible jerk of his chin at Pansy, who was sporting a fawning look on her face as she gazed up at him.

The Slytherin rolled his slate-gray eyes and the two of them grinned knowingly at one other. This was going to be the Lockhart-crush all over again.

When their new DADA professor seated himself after an acknowledging bow of his head, artfully letting his dark hair shield his right eye in a mysterious fashion, the chattering started to scatter and after a few seconds silence hovered like a tangible something in the Hall again.

The stillness transformed into a nervous one, as the look on Dumbledore's face had gone uncharacteristically serious.

Here it comes, Draco thought, and for some reason his heart seemed to have re-arranged itself near his throat.

"Last time we sat together like this, a horrible knowledge was being mourned. On the twenty-fourth of June, Harry Potter disappeared. We wept by his empty coffin. Lord Voldemort seemed to have finally succeeded in what he had failed to do for five times previously –ensure that Harry Potter posed no more threat to him. His followers have doubled in numbers, and we feel his shadow looming over us. Many of you have lost someone this summer; many more have had to leave their homes."

He paused, and his blue eyes swept over the students. Pale faces stared up at him in shocked apprehension. The silence was absolute.

"That is why," Dumbledore continued, and even in his voice there seemed to be a catch, "Over the duration of the summer, a team of aurors and the Order of the Phoenix have gone great lengths to try and put a stop to the madness. With great joy-"

Suddenly there were several shocked intakes of breath and more than one student grabbed for support.

A door behind the staff table had opened soundless, an auror with bright pink hair stepped quietly into the Great Hall, followed by a much taller, lean frame.

"-that we have located a hide-out of Voldemort and that Harry Potter, was, in fact, still alive and a had been prisoner-" The rest of his sentence was simply drained away as the whole Great Hall erupted into staggering sounds of gasps and small wails, harsh, disbelieving whispers and cries of wonder.

In front of them all, standing not quite in the center and looking very much reluctant to be there was Harry Potter.

Draco found that he had no trouble with looking as though he was shocked, for some reason, despite being there the whole time, he found himself grabbing at the edge of the table as some nameless feeling surged almost violently to the surface.

Pansy had both her hands clapped over her mouth, and her dark eyes were wide. Blaise had a hand on Draco's shoulder and was clutching it so tightly that there would be a bruise in the morning. Draco did not register any of it. His eyes seemed to be glued to the Gryffindor standing there, his breath knocked from his body.

It seemed that the whole of the young people and a more than half off the staff had lost all ability of speech.

"Uhm," Harry started to mumble softly, but it was as of he had physically slapped every single one of them in the face.

"Hi." He concluded sheepishly and glanced up through his dark fringe.

Draco let out a shallow gasp, because when those eyes swept upward, unearthly fire was burning within. As the son of a DayWalker, Draco knew what to look for and to him it seemed as if the iris _glowed_ with inner light that came right from the core of Harry Potter's being. It was four times the intensity he could deduct in his father's, and at that moment, Draco realized that he had every right to be scared.

"Harry?" a soft gasp escaped a delicate cherub mouth. Cho was standing ram-rod straight, her dark Asian eyes frozen. Her bottom lip quivered. Then, as if guided by a gust of wind she broke into a run that brought her straight to the Gryffindor. And all but flung her body in his arms.

With that, the whole mass of students seemed to rise as one and move forwards. Draco watched as the young man was nearly drowned by a press of youngsters in all states, laughing, crying, everything.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's voice thundered. "Everybody return to your seats at once. NOW!" the last was uttered with the sharpness of a whiplash.

Hesitatingly, the fellow-peers receded, flowing back to their respective place, all the while their eyes fastened on Harry. Cho had to be led away, and even then she kept reaching for him.

The Gryffindor had a look on his face like deer caught in the headlights of a muggle car. His face had gone pale, his lips redder, eyes brighter. Inhumanly bright.

Only Draco noticed and was droning in his head 'don't go all vampire, don't go all vampire, don't go-'.

"It is a great honor that I can tell you that Mr. Potter has once again come through at incredible odds. During his time in captivity he was submitted to all kinds of horrible acts that will leave both a physical and emotional mark. I implore you, please, to give Mr. Potter the time and space he needs. I know that all of you are very eager to greet him, but his ordeal while in Voldemort's clutches was a terrible one. They all but definitively erased his presence on the earth, locking him away with dark magic so powerful even is magical life-force was undetectable. Had it not been for the effort of a remarkable Auror, Mr. Walker, we might have never retraced Mr. Potter."

The ancient wizard halted, and looked gravely at his students, "So I ask of you to conduct yourself with the utmost respect this young man deserves and grant him the peace he badly needs in order to secure his complete recovery. Miss. Granger, Mr. and Miss Weasley were already informed of this and I ask of you to leave it to _them_ to look after Mr. Potter." There was such authority in his voice that most students spontaneously nodded hastily.

Harry, looking somewhat unfocused, was inching his way towards the Gryffindor table, and Dumbledore let him go. Every pair of eyes in the Hall followed his every move faultlessly. Hermione and Ron stood as one, letting him sit between them. Several other Gryffindors opened their mouth to fire questions, but Ginny's glare was such a heated one that they relented, instead choosing to continue to stare avidly at the savior-of-the-wizarding-world that was unexpectedly restored to them.

"Furthermore I would like to draw your attention to the fact that certain security measurements might restrict you in-"

Draco lost interest as his mind caught at the mentioned Auror which had been said to rescue Potter's life. He did hope the bloody man had his act together, because he was soon going to have to deal with not only very persistent students, but the whole media.

He had zoned away in introspection that he nearly leaped out of his skin when Pansy shook his shoulder, "The first years, Draco…"

Oh, right. The two miserable scarecrows as newest addition to the house of Slytherin. Draco arched a brow, "Surely you can handle the both of them, Pansy, I'm quite sure the poor sods are in too great a state of shock to try and ambush you."

With that said Draco pushed himself to his feet and slid through the throng of people. Most were not really moving anywhere in the near future, there was too much of recent excitement that needed serious gossiping and speculating about. He was through the magnificent arc of the doors before anybody had noticed, and moving down a hallway that was not exactly leading to the dungeons with sure feet.

He needed to get out of here.

--

Of course, there had to be a point when he was alone with his housemates and could just not say anything. This moment came the very first evening already, when Ron was in the bathroom and Harry had rather not be left behind in his dorm with the other, but if he started following Ron along even when his friends going to take a piss, it might leave a wrong impression.

He wasn't really jittery because he was afraid of them, but more afraid of looking at them and seeing possible blood-donors. Somehow, it wasn't as bad around Ron, Hermione or even Ginny, though all of them had a grand magical capacity. He wanted to be close by them, but it seemed that his friendship with them ran so deep that even his feeding instinct could flood it. There were moments when he though of blood and veins and other things he didn't want to relate to his friends, but he could suppress them.

A tense silence dominated the common room, and though they all tried not to stare at each other, it wasn't really working. Harry didn't know what to say, and he tried to change into his nightclothes as fast as possible with his back turned towards them.

"…Harry."

He froze, clutching his sweater against him to hide the odd little knobbed ridges on his lower abdomen. Talk about bad timing. When he turned around, Neville was peering at him owlishly from under light brown hair.

"If there is anything I can do for you, just tell me. I-"

Dean interrupted "We."

Smiling, Neville gave a nod, "We're your friends."

Harry found that he'd been holding his breath, "Thanks. I'm just…"

"Don't worry about it, mate." Seamus said, "It's just so you know."

Harry nodded again, "Thanks." He repeated and the smile came easy to his face.

"That's so sweet." Said Ron from the doorway, grinning.

Having tugged his nightshirt over his head in a flash, Harry threw in one fluid motion a pillow at him, "Wanker."

The others sniggered and continued their evening ritual. Ron padded over and dumped himself on Harry's bed "So," he began, but his voice was had a certain shiver to it, "what do you think of the new DADA teacher?"

Harry frowned, "Smarmy kind of guy with a stick up his arse, if you ask me."

"Yeah, he does have certain… Lockheart-ness to him, doesn't he. Should've seen Lavender and Parvati swoon at him." Seamus agreed, from where he was already lying under the sheets.

"That's what all the blokes are saying." Dean said, frowning, "He better be good and not start preaching about all his wild adventures and how many successful vampire kills he's got. Sixty-three of them."

Harry felt himself go cold.

"You seem to know a lot about him, Dean… been studying?" Ron said with a grin, giving a lighter twist to the conversation.

Dean didn't flush as nicely with his dark skin, but his scandalized face said enough. "Still not as worse as you back in forth year with Krum though." He adopted a high-pitched voice and batted his eyelashes, "Have you seen Krummy do his Wronski-feint, makes his hair flutter fabulously in the wind-"

Promptly, Harry's pillow was yanked from under him as Ron grabbed it before throwing himself at Dean and pummeling him with it. Soon enough there was a burst of feathers as the seams gave and both young men howled in laughter.

Meanwhile Harry replaced his pillow with Ron's as soon as he saw it be reduced to a slug. At least some things never changed, he though to himself as he snuggled into his bed comfortably.

--

He was floating. Suspended in a great nothingness, that seemed to go on and on forever and no matter where he turned or went, he was alone. And as he searched, a terrible, terrible darkness settled over him. He was going blind and the last thing he was going to see was this nothing. So he curled up, drawing his knees to his chest and hoping that it would go away. Then he felt something behind him, and the next thing he knew arms wrapped around his chest and he had the sensation of being pulled out of water he hadn't known he was drowning in. Gasping, he drew air into his lungs and he wanted to turn to look at the other, when the hand shifted over his left bicep. Thunder clapped in his head as his heart began to beat.

With a loud thud, Harry landed on the floor, tangled in his sheets.

Light hit his face, and he groaned, shielding his eyes.

"You alright buddy?" someone asked.

Eyes snapped open and his hands flew to his mouth to cover with might be seen. Clutching at his face, looking frenzied, Harry stared into Dean's worried face; who crouched besides him.

"You had a bad dream or something?" Dean asked, tilting his head.

Harry tried to control his breathing and he lowered his hands. His fangs weren't there. "Dream?" he asked his voice coarse with sleep. He couldn't really recall anything, though he felt the eerie absence of a frantic heartbeat to go along with his erratic breathing more pronounced.

He realized he was on the floor, "What…" he mumbled and then remembered his friend, "I'm okay, just a sore ass now."

Dean grinned, flashing his pearly whites, and the worry on his face melted away, "Good to hear, don't scare us like that."

It was only then that he realized that three other worried faced blinked down at him.

"Sorry 'bout that. What time is it?" he asked as he came unsteadily to his feet.

"We might as well get dressed now; it's about time for breakfast anyway." Seamus said in his Irish brogue.

Harry, feeling that he stank after sweating profusely with what his nightmare, dragged himself to the shower. He struggled out of his jammies, hopping around ungracefully in the progress and stepped under the shower. The water seemed determined to remain way too frigid for his taste and he got out as fast as he could, teeth clattering.

As he stood at the sink, scrubbing vigorously at his teeth with a brush, he got a good look at himself for the first time after that faithful morning when he'd had been found by Lucius. It was odd, because now his face was reflected on the upper part of the mirror, and not just poking above the edge. He really had grown a big deal. The most unnerving thing that he now realized that the mutation had really had been to make him a better predator. He'd always been scrawny, a gathering of bones with skin stretched over it. Now he seemed to have filled out and it was as if he blinked at someone else's body.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, "Harry, mate you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, j-just wait a moment." Again he jumped around on one leg as he struggled into a pair of slacks he had to borrow from Ron. Most of his own clothes just didn't fit him anymore.

"Harry, are you decent?" that was most definitely Hermione's voice. Why did the stairs allow the girls up in their dorms, but not visa-versa? Bloody unfair.

"Yeah, but just wa-" he spluttered.

"Coming in!" Ron gave one last warning, and waited no more than a few seconds before he swung the door open.

Harry cursed colorfully, "Can't you two just wait a moment?" he squeaked, grabbing between the pile of clothes in hope to encounter a shirt.

"You were up there for a long time, be thought you-" Hermione muttered, looking at the tiles and flushing.

He must have been gaping longer than he thought at his mirror-image, but he was embarrassed none the less, "What, that I hung myself from the shower-knob?" He growled.

"We're just worried about you," Ron retorted calmly, "And this is some really nasty shit you've gone and gotten on your shoulders, and we know you're reckless…"

"What did you expect me to do reckless in the bloody shower?" Harry said with a disbelieving snort, "Stabbed myself in the eye with a toothbrush?"

Ron gave a reluctant grin, "SO maybe we over-reacted, but what with this vampire business we don't know what to expect and-"

"What's that on your stomach?" Hermione suddenly said in a small voice.

"Umh…" he mumbled, he still hadn't quite told them about his… ability to impregnate anything walking on two legs, even if it had bollocks or not.

"Never mind," Hermione said quickly, and she looked as scarlet as the rest from her tie.

Harry was confused, this was not the first time she'd seen him without a shirt, and they'd spend their summer swimming in a nearby lake when they were at The Burrow. And there had even been a time when Ron had seen it fit to yank down his swimming trunks once, when he stood on the pier, in full view of some of his friends.

"What?" he said, looking down at himself and fervently hoping his body had not sprouted another something to add to his anatomy. He even ran his fingers through his hair, as if expecting to have horns or something.

"W-well, you look-" Hermione bit her lip and was staring so hard at the floor her eyes might just plop out.

"He looks what?" Ron demanded, and for some reason he sounded angry, "Like what you see, do you?"

"Oh, don't give me that." Hermione had seemed to have gathered herself enough to stamp her little foot at him, "Don't tell me you're as blind as well you're thick-headed. He looks like… well, a man." She gestured at Harry.

"A man, is he? What do reckon I am, then? A bloody bird?" Ron's ears had gone red.

Harry was so thoroughly confused that he was getting worked up. For some reason this was going down-hill and he had no idea why.

"Well, you're acting like one!" Hermione told him coolly, "You don't have to be ja-" she snapped her mouth shut.

Ron's nostrils flared, "Jealous, am I? Of Harry? You're daft."

"H-hey-" Harry protested weakly.

"Then stop being such a prat!" Hermione snapped.

"You're making such a _big_ deal of it!" Ron roared into her face, spraying her with spittle, "I'm going down for breakfast, before my appetite is spoiled with you ogling our best friend!" And with that he stomped off.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms moodily.

Still flabbergasted, Harry wondered what just transpired, "What was that all about?" he asked, trying to make himself sound as harmless as possible, not wanting to have her round on him too.

Looking up, Hermione managed a weak smile, "Oh, Harry. You're too dense for you own good."

Somehow she managed to find his clean shirt in the mess Harry had created in his haste to find the bloody thing in the first place. Gratefully, he pulled it on, and began buttoning it up.

Hermione sat down wearily on the wooden chair in the corner, "You just look like you've aged a few years. You're don't really look like…a boy anymore."

Automatically, Harry looked at the mirror and felt at his face, it was him, and still different. But it was not such a shocking difference to have caused that row just now.

"Not just your face… your body. You've grown up, not just now, because when you were in the hospital wing I thought your face was… more mature. But your chest and…" she trailed off, blushing again.

Harry found the situation decidedly awkward, and didn't know what to say at all. Some part of him realized that he was not going to appear as a sixteen-year old brat for the rest of his life. That was a tremendous relief, because though he wasn't a child anymore, he neither had been an adult when he was turned. It seemed that half-mutating had had a positive side after all.

Hermione was smiling at him now, "Oh, don't give that look, Potter. It's not like I just I'm planning on fawning all over you now. But honestly, you've sure gone from small and innocent to tall and …manly."

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Harry babbled, struggling with his tie, "And I don't think it's funny at all." he added, mortified, as Hermione broke out in uproarious laughter.

Frown still etched firmly upon his forehead, Harry let himself be guided out of the bathroom, throwing the discarded nightclothes on the bed and grabbing his books, which he had all jammed into his pack so wouldn't have to make another trip to the dormitories after they'd received their timetables.

Almost automatically, as if trying to fold in upon himself, Harry walked as hunched as possible. He felt about as awkward as he looked. It had had to come far that he wished it was only because of some event like in the previous years. Like when they thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, or back in forth year, when he was the fake champion… How little those things seemed now.

Of course, even when he nearly succeeded in retracing his head into his shoulders, heads continued to turn as he passed by. He tried to reach that part within him that was supposed to be responsible for 'the Charm', as Seth had referred to it. He didn't know whether he was influencing people with it or not, but it would be safer to try and not do anything supernatural however passive and invisible it might be.

As they entered the Great Hall, the excided chattering died away as if someone had pulled a plug and all the voices went swirling down the drain. If possible Harry made himself even smaller than before. Did they really have to stare like that?

For the first time he found himself wishing for the calm atmosphere at the manor. Though everybody was more than happy to have him back, he still felt threatened. At least back in Wiltshire, Lucius… Harry pushed the thought back where it belonged; in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. He felt bad enough without thinking about his Sire. But the pain, in his head, and chest and… No. He didn't need Lucius. There wasn't anything his friends couldn't give him that Lucius could, Harry told himself. He was better off without him.

Hermione picked a spot at their table, which, Harry noted, was as far away from Ron as possible. Nevertheless, when she looked at him, there was a smile.

"Oh c'mon now, Harry. Don't skulk like that." She admonished him quietly.

"But everybody's staring!" he hissed back, coming to the realization that now he stuck head and shoulders above the student body and hiding wasn't so easy as it used to be.

"I think it has more to do with that barely twelve hours ago everybody thought you had been dead and buried for almost two months." Hermione pointed out with painstaking logic.

Harry gave a non-comitial grunt and accepted the timetable McGonagall pushed into his hands, the witch giving a grim nod, Harry returned. He scanned the paper, while popping a few grapes in his mouth that had been on the fruit scale. Everything continued in the more or less in same fashion as last year; still the same classes at the appropriate level he needed to become an Auror. Which meant potions with Malfoy.

As he glanced up from his timetable, he saw Draco mimicking the movement in uncanny precision. He bore his eyes purposefully into Harry's, as if trying to say something. Harry arched an eyebrow. Eyes still locked, Draco nodded his head slightly at the exit, a movement you could only catch when looking for it. Then the Slytherin rose, said something to his friends that had them all burst out in laughter and walked out of the Hall.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry hissed at Hermione, "Wait for at Transfiguration, I'll be right back." And not giving her a chance to demand what was going on; he strode out after his nemesis.

He was in such a hurry to try and catch up with him that he hadn't seen the young man standing perfectly still just outside the doors. Harry smacked bodily into him, felt a stab of glee that he almost as tall as him when their foreheads connected, and then toppled backwards and landed painfully on his ass.

"Bloody hell Potter!" Draco snarled, rubbing at his forehead, "You literally are as thick as a brick, aren't you."

Harry glared back at him from his position on the floor, quite besides himself because he felt the urge to do something _crazy_. Something not unfamiliar to him, but this was different. His spectacles, now with window glass for lenses, had slipped off and where lying in his lap.

There was a tense silence. Draco went even paler than he usually was.

"Stop it!" he said in a strangled sort of voice.

"Stop what?" Harry asked, but already half-expecting the answer.

Draco had his wand out and poked it at his face, "Doing your…thing on me. The Charm."

Still, hearing it from Malfoy's mouth was enough for him to squeak, "How do you know about it?"

"My father has had another DayWalker Liber besides you, remember, and when he came into… well whatever it is that happens to you, I don't want to know, because it's absolutely disgu-"

"Malfoy!" Harry interrupted

"Right, anyway, it felt the same and you better cut it out." He finished a desperate edge to his voice.

"At least you're not doing that creepy glazed-eyes thing." Harry muttered stumbling to his feet.

"I'll give you glazed-eyes, you bloody prat!" Draco growled, but lowered his wand nonetheless.

Harry blinked. "That sounded so wrong, given the context of the conversation."

Draco clenched and unclenched his fists in rapid succession, "Look, Gryffindor-boy, I am entirely not in the mood to exchange pleasantries with you. You somehow seem unable to realize that this situation can blow up right in our faces if you just as much as open your stupid gob at the wrong time!"

At that he pivoted on his heel and strode down the stairs, moving towards courtyard.

Glowering at the retreating figure of his nemesis, he waited until Malfoy rounded the corner of the Hallway, and then gave in to the -childish, yes- but satisfying impulse to stick his tongue out at him. Having done that, he followed in the other's footsteps, turning towards the courtyard and nearly slamming into the other's prone figure for a second time.

"Malfoy, can't you-"

"Mister Potter!" a voice boomed, the one you associated with the suave, handsome rogue in the older generation of movies.

Harry peered over Malfoy's shoulder, who, he noted, had gone rigid as if petrified. Promptly he found himself following the Slytherin's example, freezing completely.

Handsome, dark, mysterious. Le Cavaliér smiled wildly at him, baring perfect white teeth. "It's good to finally meet another V.I.W. (Very Important Wizard) face to face, especially after your amazing comeback. Tough nut to crack, aren't you sonny?"

Harry stared at him. At his side, Malfoy mouthed 'sonny' with a vague hint of disgust and glanced at the Gryffindor.

The new teacher stuck his hand out at Harry, while giving a practiced shake of his head to make the black bangs of hair to fall over his eye.

Harry stared at the hand.

Le Cavaliér's grin smile wilted around the edges.

Staring, in fact, was not nearly adequate enough to describe the utter look off contempt and badly concealed fury that had taken over Harry's face. Even without the instinct of his vampire-self he would have experienced an utter dislike for the man. But the gut-instinct that somehow felt that this twit went around staking vampires was violent enough to leave Harry nearly breathless with rage.

"Whoa, look at the time! Nice to have met you sir." Draco exclaimed overly loud in the stark silence, giving the still suspended hand a half-hearted shake. "Forgive my fellow peer, Sir, but he isn't quite..." He smiled disarmingly, "himself today." he turned to his companion "Let's go Potter," he hissed, grabbing the back of his collar and dragging him along.

They were out off the hallway and walking into the courtyard when Harry managed "He killed, he killed, he-"

"Exactly and he's going to stake you, too, if you keep up the good work. Bloody hell, Potter, you've been... what? Walking around not even a day here and you nearly manage to get yourself into trouble? What would you've done if I hadn't been standing there? Eaten him? Flashed your pretty little fangs at him?" his face wasn't even an inch from Harry's. "Well?"

Harry blinked at him, leaning backwards for as far as he could without toppling over. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't paying much attention to what the other was saying. Fascinated, he found that he couldn't look away from the other's face. Of course, now that Draco expected an answer he didn't have one. "You've got blue eyes." he said, surprised.

"And stop using your vibes on me!" Draco roared in response.

"Now, now, Draco, don't work yourself up so badly. You'll pop a cardinal artery." a man's voice interjected.

Leaning against a tree stood a broad-shouldered, brown haired man. He was watching them with an unreadable expression. The name-tag on his Auror's uniform said 'Walker'.

Upon seeing him, something inside Harry flared, joyous, hopeful.

Draco didn't seem very surprised to see the stranger, "Finally!" he pushed the Gryffindor towards the man, "You talk to him. I'm leaving!" and he did exactly that; striding away with his back ram-rod straight.

As if someone had shoved a broomstick up his arse, Harry thought to himself, and cringed at the mental image that his over-eager brain provided. Perish the thought. He turned to the Auror. Something took over in him and the otherwise rather suspicious part towards unfamiliar people in his brain became a little fuzzy.

"Hello Mr. Potter." the man said.

Harry smiled up at him. Even with his recent grow-spurt, the man was taller than him. He felt himself relaxing, and the word 'safe' sprang to mind. For some reason he wanted to walk over and rub himself against the Auror, like some kind of big cat. He came closer.

Mr. Walker gave a very small smile. That made Harry feel happy. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." he said, and was taken aback at how much he meant that.

He was looking intently at Harry now, standing almost perfectly still as the other approached two more steps until they were in touching distance.

As if on its own accord, Harry watched his hand lift away from his side, so it made contact with Walker's. "Why do I want to touch you?" he asked, as it finally struck him as unusual that he would go around pawing complete strangers.

"Honestly, Harry," Walker said, mustering a smile that was not a smile and not a smirk, "It's flattering that even _you_ can't tell. A compliment to my powers."

It was about then that Harry gasped and lurched backward with the manner of someone who was either very drunk or had just been walloped over the head with a two-ton package labeled 'Sudden Realization'. He clutched his hand as if it had been about to be chopped of by a chimaera.

"You!"

"A little slow today, aren't we Liber?" Lucius drawled.

Harry could only glare.

"You seemed much happier to see me just a moment ago. Why the sudden change of heart?" he put a hand to his chest and an almost sincere look of hurt pouted his lips.

"You tricked me!"

The act melted away like snow, the altered face serious. "Nothing has changed."

Having no intention to deal with 'this' right now, Harry clenched his jaw with a typical stubborn set and remained silent. 'This' being how wonderful the initial reaction towards his Sire had been without any restraint. How it was supposed to be.

Lucius sighed, "You can hardly expect me to walk around without any sort of disguise, can you now, Harry? So no need to be angry with me for that."

Angry suited Harry just fine. "What are you doing here?" he demanded; resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

"You're such a stubborn-" Lucius didn't finish it, but he looked truly annoyed.

Harry watched how he gathered himself with a certain sense of satisfaction, because it seemed to ask a great deal of control to do so. Fine. Any day he could yank Lucius' chain was a good one. The morning was looking up again.

The Daywalker looked less than pleased, but answered Harry's question. "First off all, you can't expect to be allowed to do your own thing here, Liber, because without me you would go crazed before the end of the month and slaughter your little friends. No matter how much you believe you don't need me, and no matter how hard you tried not to, it would happen." He was clearly smug to be able to rub this under Harry's nose; who was just and loyal to a fault.

Scowling, Harry stared hard at a spot somewhere to Lucius' right; not wanting to show that at some level he'd been aware of this. It would mean agreeing that he had know that he had needed him, that in a way he had already needed him, and he would rather chew his own tongue off than admit that. He settled for his most foulest look instead, one which relied perfectly what he thought about the former Death Eater.

Something moved behind the brown eyes, quickly there and gone. He continued, "Secondly, I wanted to inform you that the Elder has returned and has been alerted of your impending visit."

"Seth told me what I needed to know." Harry said scathingly.

Right then it seemed as if Lucius inflated, growing taller and more menacing than anything Harry had ever had the displeasure of facing. "You _will_ show the proper respect! You should be honored to meet the Elder, my Sire, and you_ will_ act like it!"

Harry would have returned 'or what' if Lucius hadn't been emanating a full blast of true power to whop him over the head with. It was a cold, tangible sort of power, as if a colony of sharp legged insects were marching over his skin. And at the moment he wasn't even doing anything with it, just leaking pure magical energy all over the place. Harry was suitably impressed and refrained from giving any cheek.

"There you are, Harry!"

Nearly besides himself with paranoia, Harry felt his hand going for his wand, as he whirled around. Ron's hands came up in a warding motion, and he went rather pale.

But the obvious relief upon seeing his best friend must have shown on Harry's face, and the both of them relaxed. Harry's hand dropped away.

"Who's is this?" Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Mister _Walker_." he answered, lavishing great emphasizes on the word.

Of course, it went entirely over Ron's head. "Hello Sir." he said politely, with the proper dash of admiration at seeing the Auror uniform. Oblivious to the obvious, as always.

Lucius gave the redhead the most wide and wicked smile Harry had ever seen in his life.

Resisting the urge to slap his forehead, Harry began leading Ron away. "Let's go mate, we're late for Transfiguration." They were almost of the courtyard when Harry reluctantly turned around again, "You'll let me know..?" he trailed off.

"Of course, Mr. Potter." Lucius answered with his new voice, one that sounded entirely too nice for a Dark Wizard, "I'll know _exactly _where to find you."

Inwardly, Harry groaned, and nudged Ron into the hallway.

Great. Just great.

* * *

There we go, a brand new sparkling chapter for you guys, right in time for Halloween!

Fancy that.

This chapter has not been beta-ed. I just felt I had to submit something before Halloween. And just because it has been such a long, looong, looooooong time. (a year? surely not!). Anyway, if any of you feel compelled to point out every other spelling/grammar mistake I've made in this chapter, DON'T. I know, okay? English is not my mother-language. I'll get a beta on this story someday. (If you don't mind waiting a loooong, looooong time between my bouts of writing, hey you're up for the job!)

I am quite pleased with this chapter, if you aren't, too bad, but I just can't imagine how I should have handled this differently.

And as you all know... REVIEW! no review, me not happy, no more story. (Aha! Resorting to blackmail! And proud of it, too!)

...No, seriously. Review.


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